Black and White Wings
by hoshiww
Summary: Long ago, an Angel fell. Tainted black, he captures an Angel to use in a war. But the angel is too stubborn. Taking drastic measures is the only option left and the consequences are totally uncalled for. Thrill. Warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**Black and White Wings**

_Summary_: Five hundred years ago, an Angel fell. Changed completely and tainted black, he captures an Angel in a Great War to aid the Daemons in their quest to invade Heaven. But the Angel is just too stubborn. Taking drastic measures is only option left and what will pursue is totally uncalled for.  
_Genre_: Supernatural, Romance, Tradgey.  
_Pairings_: Thrill.  
_Warnings_: Alternate Universe, Shounen-ai, Violence, may contain smut in later chapters, may contain character deaths in later chapters (still not confirmed)

* * *

"No! Don't let go!"

But he knew it was no use, he felt his fingers slip from his friend's. So many faces looked down on him in terror, horror and fear.

Tezuka, Eiji, Oishi, Kawamura, Inui, Momoshiro, Kaidoh, Yukimura, Sanda, Yanagi, Niou, Yagyuu, Marui, Jackal, Kirihara, Atobe, Oshitari, Mukahi, Jirou, Kabaji, Shishido, Ootori, Hiyoshi and so many other people. Looking at him, desperately grabbing onto their hands. He was in tears. No, he didn't want to go. But, inevitably, the Gate to Heaven was closing, and if they didn't get him up soon, he would be trapped.

Slowly, slowly, the hole in the sky closed. Slowly, slow, he couldn't see his friends' faces anymore. Slowly, slowly, his hope was washed away, the only thing connecting his hand to Heaven, was his fingers, clinging desperately to someone's hand. Slowly, slowly, his sweating hand lost its grip. Slowly, slowly, he fell. Straight into the Demon's hands.

He could see creatures everywhere; crude bird beaks, black bodies, and dull red eyes. All the hands were groping at him, carrying him away, towards Hell, where who knows what awaits him.

He screamed, a piercing scream that echoed in his head.

"Don't leave me! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO HELL!"

_**--x.X.x.BlackandWhiteWings.BlackandWhiteWings.BlackandWhiteWings.x.X.x--**_

_.: Half a millennium later :._

They were just watching over some children in the park, pretending to be a couple. Of course, they had spelled their wings into another plane, so that the Mortals couldn't see them. They were just there, commenting on how cute a little girl was in her light pink dress and matching ice-cream flavour colour, when they heard a shuffle and a twig snapping. They put this down as some Mortal among the trees and continued their duty of watching over.

That was until they smelt a foul breath breathing on them. Before they could even turn around, their bodies were put under a paralysis spell and forced to walk into the dense growth of trees where they found creatures from Hell, waiting for them. Cruel eyes of a dull red colour glared unblinkingly at their victims, their beak mouths somehow could twist into a smirk. They danced around the paralyzed pair, screeching in bird-language, into the air, before savaging them.

They clawed mercilessly into their flesh, reveling at the blood that poured from the wounds. They used their fingernails, sharpened to a point, to dig into the skin. Tearing, shredding, killing. Even if the pair wanted to scream in pain, they couldn't, even if they weren't paralyzed, for they weren't even in the moment anymore. Their eyes gazed at the roof of leaves and branches, unseeing. Their chest not moving. Their hearts not beating.

"Fools!" A voice roared, though he spelled it into another plane, so that the creatures could hear but no Mortal. "He ordered them not to be killed! We were to capture them alive! Now we have to find a new victim!"

And with that, he pointed at the bodies, spelling them away from existence altogether and turned around, his blackened Angel wings brushing against tree trunks.

* * *

**A/N: **This is just a preveiw of what I'm currently working on. I will post the rest up once I've completed the story.

Title hasn't been confirmed. "_Black and White Wings"_ is a temporary title.


	2. Chapter 1

**Black and White Wings**

"They've started to abduct Angels again?"

"Those Daemons never learn do they?"

"A Crusade! In the name of God!"

The assembly hall echoed the mad ravings of the High Council. The latest report and survey showed an increase of Angel disappearances and Angels coming back from Earth delusional, rambling about Daemons. What ever the Daemons are doing, it wasn't nice, and the Angels' High Council had to do something.

"A crusade, eh?"

"Yes, wipe out the Daemons from Earth and seal their Entrance. That way, they will remain in Hell."

"Well that is one solution, any other suggestions?"

The Assembly Hall lapsed into silence as the High Council pondered. A full ten minutes passed before an Angel spoke.

"I second the idea of a Crusade, but we have to be careful, we don't want it to end like the last Great War. We will have to plan this out."

"Then we'll meet in a week's time with suggestions and plans. Dismissed."

**.x.X.x.**

A boy Angel walked out from the nearby tennis courts. His glossy white wings opened to lift him into the sky. Holding on to his white Fila hat, he pushed the wings down, catching air and then lifted off. He soared for a few moments, before spotting other Angels crowding around the HD plasma TVs that were stuck onto the walls of buildings. He descend slowly into the midst of one crowd, no one minding him, and jostled with the Angels until he was at the front, where, from his short height, he could see a bespectacled fourteen-year-old boy with brown hair and highlights, brushed to one side, on screen.

"Greetings Angels. I am Tezuka Kunimistu, President of the Angels' High Council," the figure spoke in a loud clear voice. "Today, I am here to inform the population of Heaven about an arrangement.

"The High Council is very concerned about the number of Angel disappearances and is now taking action. From the information our spies have gathered, we conclude that the Damned One has come to assault Heaven, by abducting Angels and torturing them for information. This is a call for serious consideration.

"The High Council has proposed that Angels are to make a stand for God and to attack Hell and its occupants. We seek to do what the last Great War did not: to seal the Entrance to Hell. Or better yet, to defeat the Damned One himself. We ask all military personals to be armed and at the ready for disposal when called. We also ask the general public to be calm about this situation.

"More news will be given, closer to the date of attack. Again, I ask the general public to be calm. Do not let your guard down."

As the crowd dispersed, the boy with the white Fila cap pulled his hat down and walked away with a smirk.

Later, when he was at his school, he decided to question his teacher in private.

"Tezuka-sensei, you know how you said that the last Great War failed to seal the Entrance to Hell?"

"Yes, Echizen," Tezuka Kunimitsu said after taking a long draught from his coffee.

"How do you know?" Echizen Ryoma tilted his head idly.

A minute of silence passed as Tezuka eyed the boy in front of him. "I was a soldier in the last Great War."

Ryoma's mouth made a little 'o' shaped.

"Study for your exam. Don't let your guard down."

Ryoma went back to his seat and studied the book in front of him. It was about spells, potions and other magical stuff. He was taking an accelerated course under Tezuka and his other teachers. If he passed this exam, he could probably enter a university and skip high school altogether. Or he could choose to join the military because after all, this is a military school.

Ryoma heard the door bang close as he turned the page to look at Oaths. He could see from the corner of his eyes that Kentarou Aoi and Touyama Kintarou had just entered.

"Oi, Koshimae! It's good to see you!" Kintarou yelled. Even after many months of getting the fact that his name was Echizen and not Koshimae into his head, he still refuses to call Ryoma Echizen.

"Yup, yup!" Kentarou agreed with him. "So studying for the big exam? You're gonna ace it, like you do in every other exam!"

Ryoma wanted to spell them from existence. Their loud and cheerful personality just clashed with his cold and aloof attitude. He couldn't count how many bottles of aspirin they had caused him to eat up.

"Be quiet. You know I'm studying so just shut up," Ryoma growled.

"Sure, sure!" They both literally screeched into his ear.

Ryoma snarled and spelled up an invisible barrier that blocked out not only physical structures, but sound and smell too. He then proceeded to read the introduction of the Blood Oath. 'The strength of a Blood Oath is determined by the will of the Taker when taken. It is not a spell, it is an oath, and so no spell detectors will be able to detect it. It has a major flaw, though, in that it will only last for twenty-four hours.' He than glanced at the contents of the book about Blood Oaths, then turned to a new topic. Thinking he had time to spare, Ryoma put his head down on top of the book and closed his eyes.

"Brat," Ryoma woke up to find Atobe Keigo spelling away his barrier. "Don't you ever dare block Ore-sama out."

"Sorry, just that Kentarou and Touyama were getting on my nerves," Ryoma proceeded to explain then turned his attention to the book.

"You read too much, brat. Play tennis with me, after all, your study time is over." Atobe spelled the book away from Ryoma's reach and landed it on Tezuka's desk. That's when Ryoma realised that Tezuka had left already. He glanced at the clock and also realised it was half an hour after his study time had finished.

"I'll crush you Monkey King."

"Don't say something when you know it'll never happen."

"Just wait and see, Monkey King."

A crowd gathered around the tennis courts. Both Atobe and Ryoma was exhausted to the point where they were both lying on the ground. Ryoma had won with luck on his side after a wind suddenly blew and landed the cord ball into Atobe's court. The crowd was right now trying to wake the two players up using cold water. When that didn't succeed they tried different methods until Ryoma opened his eyes then shut them again tightly and rolled over. Once he remembered that he wasn't in his bed, he got up and looked at the faces around him.

There were so many people he held dear to him. There was Tezuka, his teacher and rival in tennis, Momoshirou, his best friend, Eiji and Oshi, the Golden Pair, Inui and his various concoctions, Kawamura, Kaidoh, Yukimura, his rival that he has to thank because it was he who made Ryoma first activate Ten'imuhou, Sanada, Kirihara, Atobe, Yuuta, Hiyoshi and so many others. He lifted a corner of his mouth before replacing it with a smirk.

"Like I said Monkey King, I crushed you," Ryoma spoke to the still unconscious form of Atobe on the ground.

"Nya, Ochibi, why didn't you activate Ten'imuhou?" Kikumaru Eiji jumped onto Ryoma.

Instantly, Ryoma's oxygen supply was cut off. Having been thoroughly exhausted by the match with Atobe, he promptly fainted.

**.x.X.x.**

Locating his teacher wasn't hard. After all, this is a boarding school and the teachers were required to look after the students, so Ryoma found Tezuka reading a book in the teacher's common room.

"Tezuka-sensei," Ryoma greeted after Tezuka had turned around.

"Echizen," came the emotionless reply.

"I was wondering, because you and Atobe are around the same age, was Atobe a soldier in the last Great War, too?" Echizen came to sit on the carpet in front of Tezuka.

"Ah."

"Who else were soldiers?"

"Those above the age of five-hundred and twenty years."

"Tell me about the Great War," Ryoma demanded.

Tezuka sighed and put his book down. Tending to his students can sometimes be very self-sacrificing. He glanced at the boy sitting cross-legged. Echizen Ryoma, of four hundred and ninety-nine years, was a blunt kid, but bright and smart if he wanted to show it, which is how he ended up still being a student. Here, in Heaven, the school system goes by your intelligence. Unfortunately, Echizen didn't think education was important and often slacked-off. But in cases of things that interest him, like the Great War for example, his thirst for knowledge was unquenchable.

"What is there to tell? You've already read the facts," Tezuka commented.

"I want a personal account."

Tezuka sighed. "What do you want to know?"

Ryoma sat in silence for a while, going through the details of the Great War, searching for a part he was interested in the most. One came to him that wasn't discussed as much. "Were you there when the Portal closed?"

Tezuka visibly stiffened. "Ah."

Ryoma was very oblivious to Tezuka's movements and continued. "Tell me."

"Atobe, Eiji and others, we were just coming through the Entrance," Tezuka hesitated, and then went on. "We had a bunch of Creatures after us. The Portal was programmed to close when all three moons were aligned in Heaven, then move to it's current location. It closing was nothing spectacular, just it was getting smaller and smaller."

"Humph." Cleary, Ryoma was unsatisfied with the answer, so he pursued the matter. "You said Creatures were after you. Did they get in?"

"No. If they did, we would've finished them and it'll be down on books."

"Then they just got blocked off?"

"Ah."

Ryoma eyed his teacher wearily. There was something he wasn't telling. "That all?"

"Yes." Tezuka met Ryoma's gaze, irritated at Ryoma's uncharacteristical nosiness. "That is all."

Ryoma challenged Tezuka to a staring duel until he broke off and said, "I'll get it out of you someday."

"Get what?"

"The thing you're hiding."

Tezuka sighed again as he picked up his book. "You can ask anyone, but I'm sure they won't tell you."

"Eiji-san will," Ryoma said off-handedly. "He just loves to talk."

And with that note, Ryoma left Tezuka and found himself the next day confronting Kikumaru.

"Well," Kikuamru Eiji stared off into the distance with a pained look. He kept shifting from one foot to another.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow at his weird actions. "Eiji-san?"

Kikumaru seemed to come out of his thoughts and took one look at Ryoma before turning around and leaving.

There was definitely something wrong, and Ryoma was going to find out what.

* * *

**A/N: **It's been a long time coming, but it's out. You'll probably still have to wait a long time for the next chapter as I still have to rewrite, rearranged and basically get it looking and sounding right.


	3. Chapter 2

**Black and White Wings**

A week passed and Ryoma sat his written exam and practical text, then a month passed before he got his results back. The results were quickly marked because of the advanced technology and magic that Angels had.

Ryoma was discussing his results with Tezuka when Kentarou entered the classroom.

"Echizen, how did you go?" His friendly attitude made him shout at Ryoma.

"You're too loud," Ryoma pulled his hat down over his face.

"Well, I got an 98.9 and I'm thinking of going to Uni," Kentarou started to ramble about which University he should apply for.

"Echizen, what are you planning with your 99.7?" Tezuka ignored the talkative boy and asked Ryoma.

"Joining the military. I want to see a war for myself."

If Tezuka was shocked, he didn't show. His poker face wouldn't allow him to. "Aren't you going to pursue your tennis dream?"

Ryoma shook his head. Ever since knowing that most of his friends had seen a Great War, Ryoma wanted to see for himself too, and soon he found himself at a military base.

**.x.X.x.**

Panting from exhaustion at the exercises every soldier had to go through, Ryoma was confronted by Tezuka, Atobe and Yukimura. He raised his eyebrows at them and gestured to his right, where a bench stood in the midst of a clearing in a forest the military used as base. They sat down together and after a long silence, Yukimura decided to speak up.

"We are concerned for your welfare, Echizen, and thought that extra training may increase your survival chances."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "And how do you intended to raise my survival chances?"

Yukimura proceeded to tell him of the deal they had struck with the lieutenant here, how they were going to take him away from the military base at most three days a week and in exchange, they will make him fit enough to go on the first mission this squad will be assigned. Atobe then took over to detail the whereabouts of this secret training and how to get there and what to expect.

"Of course the exercises were written by Inui and Yanagi," Atobe acknowledged.

Ryoma just grunted in response.

**.x.X.x.**

"Lesson number one," Inui said as he walked around Ryoma. "Awareness."

Ryoma gazed ahead of him.

"You must be aware of your surroundings, in case someone decides to attack you from behind. There is a high chance of that, as many assume you do not have eyes at the back of your head, which you don't, but can compensate that loss for awareness of everything around you."

Ryoma grunted. Awareness, awareness, awareness. He was beginning to hate that word after the three times Inui had just said it in less than three minutes.

"I want you to first close your eyes, then see if you feel anything when I erect a barrier. If you feel something, tell me the direction it was from."

Ryoma obeyed, albeit unwillingly. Ryoma with his eyes closed, didn't know what was happening, if Inui had already erected the said barrier or if he had, where it was because a) he can't see with his eyes closed so he wouldn't know if Inui had waved his had or not, and b) he couldn't see the barrier. He concentrated. Wait, what was he meant to concentrate on? A sound? No, erecting a barrier needed no sound. A smell? Unless Inui was burning something, he doubted smell was what he was meant to focus on. A taste? Why would taste have anything to do with a barrier? A touch? Yes, but you'll have to stumble around like an idiot to find where the barrier was. So how?

Ryoma furrowed his brows. No, he did not want to make a fool of himself by asking how he was meant to know, so logically thinking…

"Echizen, we have more than five senses," Yanagi's voice cut through Ryoma's thinking process. "There are two more, the 'sixth sense' as humans call it, and the magic sensor. The former is instinctive. The latter operates in one's subconsciousness.

"Scientists have described how this 'magic sensor' works. They say magic and the subconscious mind work in the same plane of existence that is not physical; therefore the mind can detect magic. The magic is like a tug in your subconscious, and once you have developed this skill, it will be more than just a tug; you will be able to 'see' your surroundings and 'see' what is going on. In fact, some people have been known to create the image of their landscape, and can navigate unknown terrain. Some call this your 'inner eye'. This term is most accurate, and it is what we are aiming for.

"For starters, you will meditate here. Try and know everything in this glade, and what they are doing."

Ryoma grunted and emptied his head of all thoughts and concentrated on each of his senses, just like what he was taught to do in school. First, and the easiest were sound. He listened to everything: leaves being rustled by the wind, the scampering of little wood animals, the breathing of the others, his own breathing… He then focused on touch. He could feel the smooth texture of his clothes, the wind playing with his feathered wings, the grass tickling his thigh and calf as he sat cross-legged, his hat tugged low over his eyes… Smell was harder but he managed to sniff in the newly lawned grass, thanks to Atobe's gardeners, and caught a waft of flowers when the wind blew into his face…

Suddenly, he heard someone shift and stand up. He concentrated very, very hard, trying to discern whom it was, and what they were doing. He concentrated so hard, that in his mind, a picture started to form and Ryoma realized that Inui was standing up. Inui was holding out his hand in a spell-casting manner, fingers clenched and fist rolled to one side ready to flick and extend the digits. As quick as lightning, Ryoma swished his hand, a smaller, faster movement than Inui's but lacking the potency any spell might have and managed to hold Inui's hands by invisible threads he had produced on another plane.

Just as he was basking in his glory of finally achieving this 'awareness' that Inui was speaking of, he felt a force rushing towards him from behind. Before he could react to it and create a counter-spell that would stop the force in its path, it hit Ryoma and he gasped as the impact winded him. His eyes flew open and he saw Inui jerk his hand and fling his fingers towards him. He tried casting a shield, but the ball of energy that rushed at him didn't stop where his barrier was meant to be, and when it was an inch from his face, it hovered before disappearing.

The onlookers frowned. Clearly Ryoma had just lost Control when the tennis ball had hit him, preventing him from casting a spell or maintaining the previous spell he had put on Inui's hand. Disappointed, Yanagi gave Ryoma the homework of meditating every night and then dismissed him.

**.x.X.x.**

In a week, Ryoma had cornered most of his friends, excluding those who were younger than five hundred years old. All had a shifty tension and guilt around them, and all clammed up at the words of 'Entrance' or 'Portal' or 'Gate to Heaven'. There was only one person left on Ryoma's hit list. Kirihara Akaya.

Ryoma's target was lying on a grassy hill on the school's premises, drawing in his new sketchbook with his crayons. Kirihara frequented the school to talk to his friend, Yukimura Seiichi, who was a teacher. Ryoma plonked down next to him with a can of Ponta and proceeded to talk.

"You know anything about the closing of the Portal to Heaven?" Ryoma was blunt.

Kirihara sucked a breath in then took one good look at Ryoma before shaking his head and returning to his sketch.

Ryoma sighed. "Why does everyone seem so afraid?"

"If you were there you would know, brat," Kirihara muttered.

"That's why I want to know, because you guys know."

"Go away."

"I don't wanna."

"You should've gone to Hell."

"I'm in Heaven, so live with it."

"Quit annoying me and go annoy someone else!" Kirihara shouted and spelled up a wall, Ryoma lazily waved a hand and it disappeared. They exchanged many spells, but Ryoma could feel Kirihara lose Will and Control, the two essential elements in casting an everyday spell, Will to actually cast the spell and Control to take command of the magic and exert it in a way that you want, as Ryoma was forcing Kirihara to remember the day the Portal closed by continually saying things in between the spells.

"Okay, okay, I'll spill, but you can't let anyone else know it was me!" Kirihara landed a light blow to Ryoma's head.

"Che. Fine."

Kirihara breathed deeply before starting with a distant look. "It was a few minutes from the sealing of the Gate, we had just lost some Creatures in the Mortal World, but they could catch our scents anytime, and it seemed they were playing with us. We were at the Portal and it was closing fast. We all shot up through it but one was too late. The Creatures were grabbing onto to him. We tried pulling him in, but it was no use. They had back up that were fresh and all of us had just fought off some Creatures. Then we lost him."

Ryoma watched Kirihara's face contort.

"We could've down something! I could've gone through the stupid Gate, if only to keep him company. But we lost him! WE LOST HIM!"

Ryoma could only stare in awe as tears started to make its way down Kirihara's face. It wasn't everyday you see this cocky, egotistical and violent Angel break down.

"Huh?" Kirihara asked.

"I said 'what's his name'."

"Fuji. Fuji, Syuusuke."

Ryoma didn't know any Fuji Syuusukes. But he now knew why everyone was anguished. They had lost a friend.

* * *

**A/N**: hOMG, it took sooo long to write. I wonder about later chapters? at the prospect of having to drag myself through a pool of writer's block.-

SPECIAL MENTION: Thank you to Leite Destiny for reminding me to write (she reviewed and then PMed me a long time later.), afallen and yumi2482 for reviewing.


	4. Chapter 3

**Black and White Wings**

Because of the dramatic increase of disappearances and murders of Angels, Tezuka had already sent off some groups of soldiers as reconnaissance, and to his pleasure found out what was on the Creatures hit list. He then dispatched soldiers to particular sites, but not many were very successful. The experienced came back with injuries, their skills dulled over the centauries. The inexperienced were almost always reported as dead or missing in action. One day, a scout had some important information, and a general re-laid this information to Tezuka. Tezuka promptly gathered some of the best fighters around into the Assembly Hall.

Tezuka shuffled some pieces of paper before setting them aside, leaving one crisp, white sheet in front of him, then turned to the people seated around the lengthy table and spoke.

"It has come to my attention that the Mortals are holding a ceremony," Tezuka paused, looking at everyone to see if they were paying attention, then continued. "Because of the sheer number of Mortals predicted to attend, the High Council has suggested that we pay particular attention to the festival on the evening."

"What's so important about this that needs all of our," Atobe gestured at the various people sitting around the table, "attention?"

"It is said that the Mortals' leader will be there," Tezuka shot an annoyed look at Atobe.

"So, it is our duty, then, to protect the leader from the hands of the Daemon to ensure that the Mortals will not go crazy?" Yukimura said softly.

"Ah. So we will patrol the area in groups of eight or so," Tezuka proposed. "Most likely in our teams before, so that's to say Seigaku, Rikkaidai, Hyotei et cetera."

Ryoma tilted his head. "Sensei, then which group do I belong in?" The truth was, Ryoma didn't even know why he was here. Sure he did eliminate some foes, but he hasn't done anything outstanding.

"You will go into the Seigaku team."

"Who are they?"

"The team consists of me as Captain, Oishi as Vice, Kikumaru, Kawamura, Inui, Kaidoh and Momoshiro."

"Ah."

Turning his attention away from the youngster, Tezuka continued. "Plans will be laid out for the Captains and Vices. Those under their care are expected to obey and carry out their commands. You are dismissed."

**.x.X.x.**

Lessons after lessons, Ryoma was acquainted with the many aspects of military battles: magic, defense, swordsmanship, survival, alternative ways to attack if one had lost their sword or bow, recognition of Daemons and their weaknesses and tactics. Now he could spar with Tezuka when he used his right hand and could defeat Atobe and Sanada if given enough time. He still hasn't managed to gain the upper hand in his short duels with Yukimura and this was his current goal. He could now call upon complicated magic woven with his Will and knows how to fully undo a piece of magic instead of just spelling it to another dimension. On and on he learnt, until the day of the Mortal's festival began.

The night arrived and Ryoma was posted with the Seigaku team on patrol around the western part of a forest that ringed and surrounded almost three-quarters of the ceremony's location. Looking around, it irked him to no end, the shadows that danced. Gnarled roots crisscrossed the floor, hindering the team only the slightest, though all of the trips and stumbles were on Ryoma's part. The trees where clumped together, their branches intertwining, leaving no room for the Mortal's one Moon to shine through. The only thing that allowed him to see was the night vision spell he had cast before leaving Heaven, after been told of the dark conditions of the forest. Seigaku followed Tezuka on their hourly run, weaving through the forest like cat stalking its prey, agile, smooth and slipping through the shadows.

Silently, Ryoma moved up the pack to walk next to Tezuka. Ryoma felt the ends of his khaki shorts sweep the back of his knees, and could sense the wind blow gently through the forest. He trotted at a gentle pace, taking in the path they were walking on. Looking ahead, he could see a faint light, thanks to his night vision and distinguish it as the end of the forest, where they will turn tail and head back towards camp.

A gnarled root suddenly caught Ryoma's foot and he tripped. When he got off the ground, he dusted the dirt and soil off and realized his shoelace was untied. When questioned whether they should keep him company while he tie them together, Ryoma waved them on, saying he will join them shortly. Bending and straightening, Ryoma found he was face to face with a Creature. Dull red eyes gleamed in the darkness, like a source of light, cruel hooked break was pointed at his throat, ready to strike at anytime. Suppressing a scream, Ryoma instantly drew up a barrier between him and the Creature. After a second's thought, he lengthened the barrier to a dome, with him in the center.

"There'sss no need for childishh play," A creature drawled from behind Ryoma. He found the Creature poking and jabbing his shield with an elongated finger. Though it was lengthy, it was crooked. "Wait until he getss here. He can get rid of thiss toy, eassily."

Ryoma stared in horror as other Creatures started to appear in the trees and on the ground. It seems he was completely and utterly surrounded. He couldn't fly either; the branches would get in his way. What was he to do?

"What do we have here? An Angel?" A smooth, melodious voice reached Ryoma's ears. Immediately after the words, Ryoma sensed his shield been spelled away, and instinctively flung up another one.

"What's the use, Angel? I will keep spelling them away, and if we're lucky, the Moe's will get in," this time Ryoma saw a person standing along side a Creature. Brown hair fell onto a smiling face. Indeed, the person was speaking truth, for the Creatures had their beaks pressed against the shield, waiting for that person to spell away Ryoma's barrier.

Ryoma drew his sword in his left hand, and kept his right free, if he needed to cast a spell, and readied himself for the attack. The person swept his hand in front of him and the Creatures fell forward. Ryoma turned around and his blade struck something solid. Ryoma pulled his sword out and flung a carelessly aimed stun-spell behind him. He looked at the opponent in front of him, the one he had hit. He noticed that the wound he had inflicted wasn't there. Could these Creatures be using healing magic?

No time to think, Ryoma reproached himself as he pivoted on his foot, sending spells with his right hand and striking anyone that came near with his left hand. His ambidexterity gave him an advantage, though none of the creatures seemed to be affected.

Swish, swish, Ryoma tried to strike at where he thought the heart of these creatures resided, to no avail. Once his sword got stuck in the thick hides and he had to use a spell to pull it out, but when he did, he used too much strength and his sword flew at him, resulting in him losing foothold for a moment. He stumbled, his sword flew up to balance him and met the creatures head. His blade sliced the base of the Creature's skull and up, pass an eye, black blood pouring from the wound and with it a rotting stench. This discovery of a new method of attack sent Ryoma into a frenzy, slicing any heads that he could see and soon bodies of the Creatures piled up around him.

"Enough is enough," the click of fingers snapping sounded around as the spellcaster from before stepped into view. "It's no use losing more than necessary to this... diminutive boy."

Biting back a retort about his height, Ryoma switched his sword from left hand to right, in case the spellcaster decided to cast a spell, and if he did, then his dominant hand would be better at deflecting. As Ryoma expected, the person flicked his hand twice in succession. Ryoma could feel the blasts of energy coming from the hand and held up his left in an attempt to block. What he didn't suspect was that the enemy had cast two spells, one immediately after the other, so when Ryoma nullified the first spell, the second hit him full on and he fell to his knees, howling and clutching at his stomach. His cries echoed around, rebounding off the trees and Creatures that were still alive. The Creatures took up the sound and warped it into laughter, a cruel, shrieking, high-pitched, piercing sound.

"Shall we get going?" the brunette spellcaster inquired in a cheerful voice and snapped his fingers again. The Creatures closed around Ryoma, who was standing up and attempting to defend himself, only to fall back to the ground holding his stomach. His stomach wasn't in pain; the feeling vanished after the initial contact with the spell. No, it felt like there wasn't anything there but a boulder, dragging you down and stopping you doing anything. Ryoma gasped as he tried to counter the impossible dead weight and fighting with it made him exhausted. The weight pulled him down until he was lying flat on the ground.

"Handle him, I'm leaving!" the cheery voice sounded and Ryoma glimpsed his form jumping into the air and thrash his way through the leaves and braches ahead.

Ryoma swore as slimy claws grabbed his ankles, out of reach from his sword. Kicking at the unwelcome feeling of sweaty, hairy claws, Ryoma couldn't do much as others joined in and hurled him up by the ankles. The spell made him uncomfortable as he felt the boulder slip down towards his head, increasing the pressure. His head felt like it was been pushed from all sides. He saw black spots as the pressing mounted into pain inside his head to form a migraine. Now he was totally defenseless. He couldn't control his body at will from the pain that pushed down at his mind. He screamed into the night, releasing but the tiniest bit of pain.

"Echizen!" someone called from within the forest, but out of Ryoma's vision.

"Echizen!"

"Ryoma!"

"Ochibi!" was followed by other shouts of his name. Forcing himself to glance at person who shouted, he saw flashes of white wings and heard grunts and shouts. He put his head down trying to concentrate on forgetting the headache, but couldn't, so he tried to distract himself from it. He sniffed the air and the putrid smell of decaying matter entered his nostrils. Chocking on it, he found himself emerging from within him to hear swords clashing and the usual sound one would hear in a battle. The din of the Creature's voice echoed in the air. One sent a long screeched that punctured Ryoma's eardrums and suddenly Ryoma felt himself being hurtled forwards.

Ryoma looked up in time to glimpse, through the masses of Creature's bodies, before the scene swirled away, carried by the speed of the Creatures, his friends, bloody, dirty, bewildered, and most prominent, the sign of loss written all over their faces.

* * *

**A/N**: Yay, updated in a week. Basically, I would've explained more about Will and Control in one of Ryoma's lesson, but me being me, I don't like to drag things out for that long. As long as you have a pretty good idea what they are, you are fine.

To these people:  
Anon, truckerhat52, Sileny, Leite Destiny (again! Love you!), YanagiYukina,  
Thank you for reviewing! I appreciate it!

**X. TANgled**


	5. Chapter 4

**Black and White Wings**

Ryoma opened his eyes and a slit of colour met his vision. He groaned as remnants of the spell throbbed in his head.

"I see you are awake, Angel," A voice, sweet and charming, fell onto Ryoma's ears.

Ryoma fully opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The room was walled with cold, grey stones and draped in tapestry, of which Ryoma only recognised a handful of the Creatures depicted. The room was cast in the realm of shadows and in this alien place, Ryoma's eyes focused on his captor then simply blacked out.

The man with the melodious voice chuckled as he watched his captor for a while, writhing and thrashing in his dreams mainly due to the aftereffects of the spell that had produced a migraine, before stepping elegantly out the bars that enclosed the little Angel to attend to his other captives.

**.x.X.x.**

The few days that Ryoma was delirious and homesick passed by behind the bars whose metal never seemed to dull nor break, no matter what sort of method he used to break free, be it with pure strength or some clever tactic. Magic was out of question as the only person who visits him had bond him in some sort of spell-oath when he was drugged. Whenever he used magic, his Will would desert him and Control was completely gone not to mention it sapped at his strength and whenever he tried to cast a spell he would often, literary, _fall_ asleep.

Conditions were poor. There were no bathroom, no windows and the roof so low that Ryoma could touch it without any effort, even at his short stature. The floor was streaked with blood, dirt, and carvings where the previous occupant had nothing better to do. One bed occupied a corner of the cramped space, the white sheets stained red, yellow and black. Ryoma often crouched on top, wallowing in self-pity, hatred and sadness. He had cried on the first few days and now his tears where dry but his face was still salt-encrusted where he did not bother to wipe his face. In those days he asked many questions. Why was he here? What did he do to deserve being in Hell? Why was fate against him? Why was it him and not someone else?

Through these musings, he remembered that he wasn't the only one. Of course there are countless others trapped here, but Ryoma has heard that they go mad after a brief period of time spent in Hell, however Ryoma didn't dwell on these nameless Angels, he was more troubled by his sempai's friend, Fuji Syuusuke and what had happen to him.

Ryoma's head turned to the door where something inserted a bowl of clear water. Looking at it, there was nothing wrong, but Ryoma knew better. It was drugged and he didn't want to touch it, much less drink it. He averted his eyes and observed a dark red stain across his arm. He stared at the dried blood for a long time before his eyes wandered again to land on the bowl of water. Gazing at it, Ryoma realized just how thirsty he really was. Glaring at the offending bowl, he crept slowly towards it. Though it wouldn't satisfy his throat that was on fire because the drug changed the properties of water, he could trick his mind and throat that he really had drunk water. He cocked his head and observed the water inside the bowl. Clear, pure and very appealing, Ryoma brought the rim of the bowl to his lips. And immediately fainted from overdose.

**.x.X.x.**

Crack. The whip lashed through the air. Ryoma bit back the yell as sparks of pain ran down his back.

Crack. The second assault landed directly on top of the first. Ryoma just managed to stop himself from jerking. His head felt as if it was split from the onslaught of pain.

Crack. This time it hit the base of his wings. His wing shook as blood trickled down, staining the dazzling white then damaged area burning as pain flashed back and forth, a wriggling worm torturing him.

Crack. It landed on the base of the other wing. Ryoma saw black spots as he bit his lip, hard, drawing blood.

Crack. It struck hard. Ryoma closed his eyes as stars filled his black vision.

"Saa, this isn't fun when you're not reacting," the sweet voice said from behind Ryoma. His tormentor sounded angelic and looked it too, but it was said that he was the best at making prisoners suffer. "Release him."

Dark blobs of nothingness came to hover beside Ryoma's head as they did their masters bidding. Freed from his manacles, Ryoma slumped against the wall using his arms as support. His back was burning and his wings didn't feel like they were connected to his body at all, his lip was bleeding from biting on them and his eyesight was blurred. He felt the first signs of a migraine. Cold fingers slid under his chin as he panted heavily from the torture, and forced him to face his captor.

Brown hair framed the pale face, and fell short of his shoulder. His delicate features made him almost angelic and that smile had the taste of plastic, something fake, yet added to his personality. He obviously enjoyed the pain, when people would cry, scream, writhe, beg for mercy or for him to just kill them. Of course, he would just let them wallow in their own blood, suffering a slow death. This cold creature stood in front of Ryoma, smiling as if everything was right, which to him it would be. Ryoma could see that this brunette was a fallen Angel. His wings were feathered and large, but it was tainted, black. How long has this fallen Angel been stuck in Hell, Ryoma couldn't tell, but he knew that the years must've changed him. No Angel would hurt another Angel.

"Come on, spill," that melodic voice reached Ryoma's ears. "Tell me where the Gate to Heaven lies in the Mortal World. Your life wouldn't be as painful."

"Even if mine wasn't painful, what about the other Angels?" Ryoma spat at the man. Wrong move.

The brunette's eyes opened sharply. They had a staring contest, gold versus sapphire. Ryoma could've been lured into the deep depths of endless blue, but teachings from his mentors taught him not to let his guard down. And so on went the staring contest, tension escalating slowly the longer it dragged on, and with no measure of time to count the seconds, it felt like eternity, until finally, the brunette broke into that plastic smile again.

"Makes you all the more interesting to break, ne?" his smile suggested something sinister. "But I will break you, Angel, bit by bit, your grip on sanity will loosen."

"I have a name you know," Ryoma retorted, impulsively.

"Oh really Angel? How interesting, I thought all Angels were the same," the spiteful words came out of the smiling mouth, how ever he did that, Ryoma didn't want to know. "Stupid little airheads, running around Heaven, all the same with the same name. Angel."

The last word rolled off his tongue like something too disgusting and forced. The sound a child would make when made to eat medicine.

"You were once that too," Ryoma glared at the brunette, putting as much venom into his words.

"Once, but not anymore."

A cold finger stroked his cheek. It was a pleasant feeling against the fire that his body felt. Something he should savour, yet, that finger belonged to the enemy. Oh how he longed to wake up from this nightmare and find himself in his bed in Heaven.

The lips of the enemy curved more into a smirk. Those ruby red lips shouldn't be on a demon, hell, not even if he was once an Angel. The brunette let go of Ryoma and stepped back to stroke Ryoma's back, unwittingly soothing the pain. He then grabbed a bunch of black hair and pulled Ryoma's head back.

"You see, I am forever indebted to the High Lord. He saved me, I can't just let him down," he breathed.

The world swirled around Ryoma. The blood poured freely from his wounds, the demon probably put some potion on the whip to extend the time of bleeding. Ryoma could feel his face go cold, the blood draining from his head to flow into his back. He couldn't think straight. Nothing could now comprehend. His brain was shutting down.

"Who _are _you?" Ryoma hissed.

"Fuji Syuusuke. Pleased to be of acquaintance," the red lips moved slowly, just as Ryoma passed out.

* * *

**A/N**: Woot, once a week update, yay!

About next few chapters or so, I need ideas. Anything. Design a Creature-that-lives-in-Hell if you're really bored. Or if you have the time, drop by and write a string of words or phrases. I would really appreciate it.

'Special Mention' time!  
thfourteenth (Really? I didn't realised that people didn't write much supernatural), shebajay, yumi2482, IceCreamXD (Haha, thank you!), as always Leite Destiny, truckerhat52 (hehe, you know what they say about wanting to know the answers to those kind of questions? Read on!)

**x. TANgled**


	6. Chapter 5

**Black and White Wings**

Ryoma groaned as he woke up, only to face the bleak stone ceiling above his head and yesterday's recollections came back to him. Whoever was taking care of him obviously didn't take his injuries into account and laid him on his back. Or maybe that's what they had intended. In any case, it didn't do much harm, Ryoma gingerly got up from the wooden bed to try and look outside, avoiding moving his back more than necessary. The small grille on the wall gave Ryoma a view of grass and a few pairs of feet covered in Wellington boots. The grass was yellow and pale, seeing as the sun never rose in Hell. Hell had two moons, one orange and the other white. The white would rise, signifying night, and the rising of the orange, day. But the black sky was always overhead, yet no stars twinkled.

Fuji Syuusuke. Why did the name seem so familiar? But Ryoma had never known a Fuji Syuusuke. So why? Ryoma shrugged it off and leaned his head on the metal.

The door creaked behind Ryoma.

"Saa, the High Lord would like to see you, Angel," Ryoma didn't have to turn around to know whom that cheerful voice belonged to.

Ryoma just nodded. What else could he do? If he escaped, the whole of the Daemon population would be combing Hell, looking for him. Not to mention he has no idea where the Gate lies here. "Yes, Fuji."

"Being obedient, now?" Fuji's smile seemed to drop a little. "Take him."

Floating darkness came to rest on his wrists and started to wrap themselves around Ryoma. Suddenly, Ryoma was jerked forward.

"Argh! I _can _walk on my own you know," Ryoma yelled.

"Saa, save your energy for later, be glad that the Kuroiishis are doing the work for you."

"Kuroiishi," Ryoma muttered under his breath, spitting the word out like a curse.

Silence echoed off the walls of the tunnel they had entered. The only sound was the soft tapping coming from Fuji's shoes. Lined on both sides were doors leading to prison cells. Ryoma could feel his shoulders tearing from dangling in the air with the Kuroiishi dragging him along. He felt silly dangling in midair from his wrists.

Finally they reached the stairs and exited the tunnel. The room was well lit by chandeliers and beauty radiated from the tapestries hanging on the walls. The stone walls gave the room a medieval feeling. All this grandeur could almost- almost- put Atobe to shame. The colour scheme was dull and monotonous and the carpet underfoot didn't keep much warmth. They navigated room after room with the same appearance, the only difference being the lengths of the rooms. Ryoma wondered how Fuji knew where he was going.

After a corridor furnished in the exact same fashion as the other rooms, the company came to stop before a set of large oak doors decorated elaborately at the end. Before Fuji could push the doors open, a grating sound could be heard from either side. Ryoma turned his head to find the source to be stone golems, opening their mouths.

"The High Lord is at a meeting, I wouldn't go in there, even if I were his favourite," with the words came the continuous grating sound.

"Understood," Fuji smiled at them serenely. "Saa, how about some food, Angel? I'm hungry!"

But Ryoma soon realized that the food wasn't meant for him. Of course not! He was a prisoner after all! Ryoma growled and his stomach harmonised with him as wafts of spell-smells spiraled towards him. He was now aware that he hadn't eaten since he was captured, nor had he drunk anything except his own blood from his cracked lips and insubstantial, drugged water. He glared at Fuji and then at the Kuroiishiis that kept him chained to the corner to the cold, stone wall.

"Saa, have some toast, Angel," Fuji threw the tiny piece of toast, which really should be called a crumb, towards Ryoma. Ryoma lunged forward violently, the only thing stopping him from falling flat on to his face were the Kuroiishis. Ryoma caught the crumb in his mouth and then swallowed. Hell's food held no taste, which results in no smell, so the Demons uses spells to create wonderful scents. Ryoma savoured the feeling of food sliding down his throat because he knew it would be a long time before anything went down into his stomach.

But swallowing that tiny crumb was his mistake. His stomach grumbled more. It was like chewing gum, your stomach receives all the gum juice and gets ready for the food that never comes. Makes you even hungrier.

Ryoma spent the next few hours glaring at Fuji as Fuji enjoyed the delicious plates laid in front of him by Kuroiishis, until Fuji abruptly shot up and snapped his fingers. The Kuroiishis that were chaining Ryoma peeled themselves from the wall and dragged Ryoma back to the pair of oak doors. The stone golems let them past this time and Fuji threw the heavy doors open with tremendous force.

The room was full of cloth and veils. The wall had the same tapestries as decorated in other rooms, but the ceiling was hung with fabric. They were like huge sails of yachts catching the wind, slightly billowing. They were black in colour and nearly touched the floor, just a centimetre more and it would. Ryoma could see a light source from the other side of the room, where the High Lord must sit. Ryoma couldn't measure the length of the room with his eye; the materials took care of that. Even though it was colourless, the room still spoke of grandeur. The doors banged closed.

The Kuroiishis mercilessly pulled his hands down onto the ground in a sudden jerk, making Ryoma's head collide with the ground. Biting back the yell, Ryoma decided to play good.

"Master, I brought you the prisoner, as you have asked," Fuji was also kneeling on the ground. What's the use if the High Lord couldn't even see you?

"Very good, Syuusuke," a deep voice devoid of emotion echoed down the room. Ryoma took note of the one-sided first-name terms. "You may leave and wait outside the door. When I have finished dealing with the prisoner, come to my room."

Fuji nodded, and stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the ground, his face turned towards the stone floor, and slowly backed out, back bending.

Now Ryoma was on his own to face the High Lord of Hell.

* * *

**A/N**: Do not expect these weekly updates to continue. I'm looking at my document... and I'm still running out of ideas. I seriously need some ideas. Care to donate? And care to design a Hell Creature for my story? I assure you all credits will go to the creator.

**Special Mentions**  
Thank you to Leite Destiny for giving me an idea! Though that idea needs to come in later... I have good use for it.

Thank you to reviewers! There are:  
**tsub4ki** (really? I think Ryoma could also play the part of a fallen Angel as well.), **thfourteenth** (More cockiness for Ryoma? I see. So it will be. I really can't think up comebacks, takes me a while, but I'll try my best!),** Kat_sakura**, **truckerhat52** (Neither would I, but you'll see, you'll see...), **Leite Destiny** (unfortunately, this story will be centred mainly on Hell. You'll find out what's happening in heaven though.), **yue- heika**, **yumi2482**, **shebajay** (No pain, no gain, huh? I see... You're making me think... Anyways, I hope you stay with me even if I don't update frequently!).

**X. TANgled**


	7. Chapter 6

**Black and White Wings**

Ryoma glared at the ground in front of his face. The Kurroiishis were still chaining him to the stones under him and even though he knew there were curtains shielding him from the High Lord's view, he had a feeling that the Lord could clearly see him.

"Well Angel, first things are first. This is the first time you have met me," a disembodied voice rang through the hall, deep and throaty. "I am the ruler of Hell. They call me the High Lord here. You denizens of Heaven would call me the Damned One, The Devils Right-Hand Man.

"What is your name?"

Think, Ryoma knew that he gave his real name, something bad may happen. If word ever got around that he was tortured in Hell, who knew what his sempais would want to do? But whatever they wanted to do, it would certainly involve their deaths. So the first name he thought, Ryoma let roll onto his tongue. "John."

"John? Interesting. Last name?" the deep emotionless voice didn't betray what the owner thought of the name.

"Citizen. John Citizen."

"A very interesting name for someone who is Japanese in nationality." So the High Lord can see.

"I was raised among Americans. This is what they called me." Any lie would do.

"But you would still obtain your Japanese family name."

"My paternal grandfather is American." Worry was growing in Ryoma's head.

"Do not think me a fool, Angel, but I will address you as John Citizen." Ryoma could imagine Tezuka with an Atobe attitude at the other side of the room. "John Citizen, do you know where the Portal, the Gate lies in the Mortal World? The Gate to Heaven?"

"No, the Gate's location changes." Half-truth. Half lie. The Gate changed locations, but that's only if something big happens, which, essentially, is a once in a millennium chance.

"So I've heard, so I've heard. Syuusuke once said that to me too." Again, first name terms. Fuji Syuusuke was a Japanese name, and the person had a Japanese face structure, so why first names? Unless of course, the High Lord himself isn't Japanese. "A full-fledged war can only happen in the Mortal World then."

"The innocent will be caught in the crossfire."

"Then, John Citizen, it would be your fault entirely."

The High Lord's words rang inside Ryoma's head.

"Think over it." And with that Ryoma could feel eyes shift away from him. "Syuusuke!"

Fuji came scrambling into the room, the door shutting behind him, and knelt down beside Ryoma.

The Damned One's voice resounded off the walls. "I am done with this Angel. Take him back. Remember to come to my room after you are done."

Fuji nodded and proceeded outside, gesturing the Kuroiishis to follow. Twisting back through the maze of rooms, Ryoma had nothing to concentrate on but his thoughts. So the High Lord wanted to go to war with Heaven. In doing so, he wanted to provoke the Angels to come down to Earth and capture them then torture them to reveal where the Gate lay to assault God. And then what would they do? Corrupt the Mortals? Build another world based on their views?

Ryoma's stomach grumbled. He was too light-headed from lack of food and water to think properly. His mouth was parched dry, and every time air whistled past his throat, his mouth would burn. He could see double of everything now as he gave up on thinking to observe his surroundings. His eyes wasn't helping, they were blurring everything together. When he finally felt ground on his feet and the Kuroiishis had let go of him, he found his shoulders weak and pale from bad blood circulatory, the gravity having drained blood away from his arms. He was dimly aware of a clattering sound and a voice that was speaking to him.

"Angel, I'll see you tomorrow," those blood red lips looked so enticing, moving in a peculiar fashion. Ryoma had no control over his body as his legs dragged him over towards Fuji, drawn in by those lips. The hair looked so silky and smooth, Ryoma wanted to touch it, comb it, and feel it through his fingers. Those lips, that smile, it was pulling him in. He was dizzy. He felt himself apply pressure to those red lips. He looked up at those pools of water. They were asking him to drown. And he wasn't going to resist. He smiled happily as the world around him faded into black.

**.x.X.x.**

Fuji ambled along. He thought back to the dungeon, where that Angel was held. That Angel acted very strangely. He had kissed him and smiled at him then fainted. Now, who would go around and kiss their tormentor? Must be an Angel thing. Fuji could still feel the slight pressure the Angel applied on his lips and those swirls of honey looking up at him. He smirked at that image, too bad, even if that Angel was in love with him, he can't have him. Speaking of the Angel, he forgot to ask his name. Oh well, save that for tomorrow.

Fuji's legs took him on the familiar course to the High Lord's bed-quarters. He knocked on the door quietly and received permission to come in. The room was spacious, with a canopied bed in the middle. Like the meeting hall where the Angel met the High Lord, it was full of black material hanging down. The stone walls were colder here and the tapestries held pictures of how the World was made, and was draped all over the place. No light was permitted in here and a fire wasn't even lit in the fireplace. The whole room was dark.

Fuji's eyes adjusted quickly and he turned towards the High Lord. He was an old man, with flowing white hair that touched the ground, white, almost translucent skin that looked to have a papery texture and his eyes were a vibrant red, like that of the fires that rage here in Hell. His features were sharp but his skin sagged from the countless years. On his back were two pairs of large, black bat-like wings, but they were torn, ripped, like old sails on a boat. Fuji knew, though, from the many stories the High Lord has told him, that those wings used to hold feathers.

Greedy eyes looked down at Fuji, "Syuusuke, how is your job going?" Those words rode the emotionless voice streamed out smoothly from the thin, near non-existent, lips.

"Fine, sir. Though that Angel would seem hard to crack," Fuji replied in a polite tone.

"Yes, Syuusuke, it would seem so; he called himself John Citizen," the High Lord sneered. "It would be very pleasurable if he breaks."

Fuji nodded absently as the High Lord approached him.

"I want you to do better than your best."

Fuji nodded again as chapped lips descend on his own in a bruising kiss. Fuji didn't mind; he was long used to the assaults and possessiveness of the High Lord. But he couldn't help but notice the difference in these pair of lips and the ones in the dungeons. The Angel's kiss was soft and sweet, the High Lord's was so crushing and hard. His body responded to the High Lord's as his mind drifted away. He wondered about the Angel, he was honestly curious.

"Syuusuke," the High Lord breathed into Fuji's ear.

Fuji shuddered inwardly.

**.x.X.x.**

Ryoma groaned. Another day in Hell, just great. He shifted slightly in his bed then yelped. Warm liquid was trailing down his back, again. It seems, the older the scabs, the easier it is for them to reopen. He sighed and rested his head on his hands, not moving his back.

How many more days was he to live here? How many more days did he have to get tortured? How many more days can he last? How long must he survive? Before he gave away?

He had to ensure that he wouldn't let slip the location of the Gate. There must be a way, some way that didn't need him to always be consciously aware of what he is saying. There must be a way! There has to be!

But all this thinking was making Ryoma dizzy. He realized that he had only eaten a crumb yesterday. He surveyed the room and found what he was looking for. On the ground, next to a grille in the door, were a tray of food and a glass jug of water. Happy, Ryoma moved towards the blackened food, only to have pain strike down his back. He reached a hand to touch the red blood and stared at his hand.

That's it! A Blood Oath!

"The strength of a Blood Oath is determined by the will of the Taker when taken. It is not a spell, it is an oath, and so no spell detectors will be able to detect it. It has a major flaw, though, in that it will only last for twenty-four hours."

Well, even if he had blood right now, what would he do if they had left him alone? He needed something to break his skin. He glanced around. Straw bed, stone walls, metal bars, hay strewn across the floor. Nothing. He surveyed the room again. Pieces of rock from the wall, a tray of blackened food and a glass jug. Still nothing. What was he going to do?

Then it struck him, he had a glass jug, and if he were to break it, then the jug would turn into shards that can cut through his skin. Ryoma eagerly drank the contents of the jug and threw it against the wall. A shard flew past his face, letting blood flow, but he didn't care as he grabbed a few shards and stuffed it inside his bed. He returned and stood with his feet on shards, waiting for the guards to come and yell at him.

Few seconds passed, and Ryoma thought that this was actually unnecessary, until he heard a gruff voice and a laugh. He arranged his face so that it showed shock and disbelief, and waited patiently.

"Saa, Angel, what did you do?" Fuji smiled that plastic smile and signaled for the guard to return to his post.

Ryoma cocked his head to the side. "Nothing."

Fuji pointed at the glass shards on the ground and they disappeared from sight. "We'll have some private time later, Angel." He walked towards the door. "What's your name? I can't keep calling you Angel since I have many Angels under my care."

The last three words echoed in Ryoma's head. "John Citizen."

Fuji turned to look at him with those azure eyes and pointed at Ryoma. Suddenly Ryoma had an urge to tell him his real name, but he fought it, making the world swirl around until he no longer could stand it.

"Echizen Ryoma!" he panted pathetically and was released from the dizzying spell. He watched the back of Fuji leave.

Ryoma checked if the glass shard was there, to see if Fuji hadn't spelled it away. He then put his left hand on his back, making sure blood covered every millimeter of it, and pressed it onto the ground.

"I swear by the blood that flows within me, I will not reveal where the Gate to Heaven lies to the enemies of God and Heaven," Ryoma stated every word clearly. He took his hand away from the ground and saw the imprint of his hand glow then fade away. Satisfied, Ryoma smiled discreetly as he moved towards the blackened bread.

* * *

**A/N**: Sighh, such a tame chapter. I wrote this and the last part of chapter five before all the other chapters, so it's a bit lame.

I'm sure you all remember the blood oath mentioned in the early stages?

There's still a shortage on Hell Creatures and plot ideas.

**Special mentions**  
I didn't get to reply to the reviews (yes, I really wanted to) becuase of the login area being down. I was thinking of replying here, but I don't want to make the Author's Notes longer than the actual story, so for this chapter, I'm not going to reply, but just mention the names.

truckerhat52, tsub4ki, o0violetphoenix0o, Leite Destiny, yumi2482, shebajay, thfourteenth, Kat_sakura

Thank you!

**x. TANgled**


	8. Chapter 7

**Black and White Wings**

Days turned into weeks, and weeks dragged onto months. Slowly, as Ryoma got used to the fainting spells the Blood Oath he swore every day gave him, he would smirk at Fuji, just to irritate him. Slowly, as the physical pain didn't work on Ryoma anymore, Fuji turned to mental torture, where specially made potions were given to a paralyzed Ryoma to make him relieve every moment where pain, misery and all those negative feelings were prominent. That potion evolved to include his previous lives as mortal and immortal, but the Blood Oath always prevented Ryoma from blurting. Finally exasperated, Fuji turned to the High Lord for approval.

"Is this Echizen Ryoma really that hard to break?" the High Lord looked at Fuji.

Fuji merely nodded. The silence that followed echoed off the walls of the High Lord's room. "I have an idea though."

"Speak your mind," the High Lord placed a possessive hand on Fuji's backside as they lay on his bed, unclothed.

"If secrets are only confided with the people you trust, then, I'll make him trust me and force the answer out of him," Fuji said as the High Lord rolled on top of him. "This is the only way we will get the answer from him."

The High Lord looked at Fuji, hard, as he started to drive. "That means I'll lose you. What about the other Angels?"

"They're not fun enough to break."

Fuji felt the High Lord nod as he drove into him faster and harder. All he felt was pain. There was no pleasure in this.

"So, I'll move him into my room," Keep talking, Fuji thought to himself; say anything to keep distracted. He felt dirty. "And I'll tend to him. But this is going to have to take all my attention."

"I know. Your plan can start tomorrow."

**.x.X.x.**

Ryoma didn't know why he was being dragged out of his dungeon. He'd just completed his Blood Oath and returned the shard when the guards came in with Kuroiishis. Currently he was in front of a set of oak doors. The guards knocked on the door.

"Fuji-san, your delivery," the guard said and bowed immediately when the door opened.

"Thank you," Fuji dismissed the guard and Kuroiishis. "Come inside Echizen."

Ryoma glanced at the fallen Angel warily but he knew he had to obey. He seriously didn't want more torture then was necessary, so he took a step gingerly towards Fuji. He kept shuffling his feet slowly until he was inside.

The room was simple, small and cozy. The room didn't have the tapestries or any fabrics hanging down. A Victorian styled canopy bed was pushed against the far wall with beige curtains rolling off the canopy of the bed. A table topped with papers was set against another wall and a fireplace opposite that with a door next to it. Couches were scattered around the room, the shadows eerie, caused from the magical flame in the fireplace. A window above the desk looked out over the palace garden. Fuji pushed Ryoma into the nearest couch.

The rest of the day was passed off in silence, as Ryoma took the chance to sleep comfortably, without straws and sticks poking into his back. Fuji had to go and attend to some matters, which Ryoma did not want to know about. But before he fell asleep, he had to find something to replace the glass shard. The move was so unexpected, he didn't have time to reach into his bed for the piece of glass, and so Ryoma hunted. He found that Fuji owned a few pairs of scissors, and took the liberty of taking one and put it into his pocket. He promptly fell asleep on one of the couches.

When Ryoma woke up few hours later, he found himself very, very comfortable. How long has it been since he felt this comfy? Since he was taken to Hell? He rolled over and snuggled up to something warm then dragged the blanket over his head.

"Come on, Echizen, share," Ryoma knew that voice. "This is my blanket and bed after all."

"I fell asleep on a couch," Ryoma growled. You can't trust a person who wanted to send you to death, yet keeping you alive so you could feel the pain of near-death. "Unless I sleepwalked over here, someone must've carried me."

"A couch is for sitting on, not sleeping. This is what _beds_ were made for," Fuji pulled the blanket away from Ryoma's head, only to be met with hazel orbs.

"I didn't ask to be moved."

"Neither did you ask not to be moved."

They had a glaring contest. Neither was backing down. Fuji's sapphire eyes bored holes into Ryoma's honey-coloured ones and Ryoma retaliated, drilling cavities into Fuji. Some time had passed before Fuji broke into a smile and rolled away from Ryoma.

"Get some more sleep, Echizen."

Ryoma averted his gaze onto the canopy. He frowned. "Why did you bring me here?"

But he was only met with silence, as Fuji snored lightly.

**.x.X.x.**

The days rolled by as Ryoma got used to the comfort and hospitality of Fuji's room. Every time he fell asleep on the couch, he woke up on the bed and so he learnt to fall asleep on the bed. He even got to wash everyday, the door next to the fireplace led to a bathroom, or more like a hot spring. There was always food too, brought to the room by Kuroiishis. But even as he relaxed into a soft wingchair, Ryoma took out the pair of scissors in his pocket. He had to be careful, after all, Tezuka had taught him well in never to let his guard down. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt he borrowed from Fuji and placed the scissors open on to the crook of his elbow. He pressed hard into the flesh and sliced it. He was long used to the pain as blood dripped from the wound. Pressing his left hand into the blood, he made the same oath as his first.

He pulled his hand back from the ground and watched the imprint glow and smiled at himself for being a genius even at the worst of times.

"A Blood Oath, eh?" A silky voice behind him said.

Ryoma whipped around. Fuji was standing by the now opened door, smiling as per usual. Fuji casually closed the door and walked, no strolled, towards Ryoma.

Ryoma growled, a deep gurgling, menacing sound at the back of his throat. "I thought you had business with the High Lord?"

Fuji laughed, a delicate sound like wind chimes in the wind. "Even if I am his favourite, he has other, more significant, matters, like the planning of the war against Heaven."

Ryoma growled again, this time not of menace, but of helplessness. Stuck here in Fuji's room.

"There isn't anything I can do about it. I can't delay it, and I probably end up where you were if I dared oppose the idea of war," Fuji sat down on the arm of the chair.

"Why would you even want to stop the war?"

"Because, no matter how long I have been here, Heaven is where I was born, my Motherland."

"Why aren't you escaping if you feel so strongly about Heaven?"

Fuji snorted. "Have you tried escaping?"

Silence. "No."

"I was caught at the end of the last war, so I knew, as a fact, that the Portal would've moved. The High Lord too. So he let me off the hook. And I became what I am now."

There was awkward silence, as Ryoma didn't know how to respond to Fuji. Fuji didn't understand why he even said those things. Maybe he knew that opening up would also make Ryoma open up?

A knock on the door broke through the quietness and Fuji got up to answer. Ryoma was still sitting on the wingchair. What Fuji said about escaping triggered something. Maybe he should try?

"Echizen, I'm going. Be sure to clean up," Fuji called behind him as he set off into the corridor.

Ryoma cursed the blood that was still coming from his wound.

**.x.X.x.**

"He's using a Blood Oath."

The High Lord looked up from a sheet of paper. " Get him to trust you more."

"It might take longer than I imagined," Fuji didn't like this room. The many nights he spent there were always fresh in his head. "A very long time."

"Then there will be adjustments for the war," The High Lord went back to his papers. "I'm afraid that I will have to torture that Echizen Angel myself."

"How?"

" I said to him, 'it'll be your fault entirely' if the innocent mortals were caught in the crossfire, and you know the sense of righteousness that Angels carry. He'll be bearing all that guilt."

Fuji nodded silently then excused himself.

* * *

A/N: Just killed my story. First step of Thrill complete.

**Special Mentions**:  
ame no itteki, xXShadowedfateXx, xxx. -. yennii. , Leite Destiny, Kat_sakura, shebajay, yumi2482, thfourteenth, tsub4ki.

Sorry for posting one day later than the once-a-week posting time. But, as I said before, this may not go on for long.

**X. TANgled**


	9. Chapter 8

**Black and White Wings**

Ryoma stared out at the garden from his window. The pale yellow grass lined the ground up until it met the wall. No flowers or plants, except for small, bent-over, malnutrition trees grew, their leaves brown and not the luscious green of Heaven. He watched some gardeners tend to these trees; vaguely humanlike figures with long fingers that could be define as claws, in a drab uniform, a plastic sheet with holes for its head and wings. The wings of these creatures were small and bat like, thin, black skin stretched taunt over a skeleton. A gardener turned around, letting Ryoma see its face. It was hideously crude, with a break for a mouth and nose, elephant ears and dull red, beady eyes. Though Ryoma shrank back from the creature, he admired the flower held in its hand. A yellow daffodil that seemed to glow of it's own accord was cupped in the creature's hand.

"Like the view?"

Ryoma didn't have to turn around to know that it was Fuji. "A view of pale and boring grass. Yes of course."

"No need to be sarcastic," Fuji chuckled and sat on top of his desk. "But you like the flower."

"The daffodil looks like it was grown in Heaven."

"If I told what it was used for, you wouldn't like it."

"Why would that be?"

Fuji just silently looked out the window. "Those creatures are called Moe."

"Don't change the subject."

"Moe's do most of the fighting. Their claws and beaks do quite a lot of damage, but their hides are very hard to pierce through, that's why the population here favours them. The only way you vanquish them is by slicing through their heads, because that is where their skin is most thin—"

"I said, 'don't change the subject'!"

Fuji looked down at Ryoma glaring fiercely at him. "Maybe I should lock you back up in the dungeon. You're too demanding."

"What do the daffodils do?"

Fuji sighed and returned to looking at the garden. "Their essence is used in potions to mentally torture their victims."

"Wait, did you use that on me before?"

"Yes." Fuji glanced down at Ryoma before staring out the window. "It is so powerful, it can pull victims into a coma. The flower can also be burnt and then the smoke inhaled, just as long as it gets to the brain. Most of the time, demons smear the essence on their swords or weapons, then cut through the skin to distract their enemies by their thoughts."

Ryoma was silent. He turned his thoughts over in his head, and then said, with a smirk on, "Fuji, you know a lot." Ryoma turned to stick his face onto the glass window, then twisted to look at Fuji with slightly pleading eyes. "Teach me some things."

Fuji rarely was caught off guard, but seeing his opportunity, he closed his eyes and moved a hand to ruffle the Angel's hair. "Sure!"

**.x.X.x.**

"Saa, you see the Asuwarite Moon, when on a certain angle, fuels the werewolves 'Crystal' which they keep at their base," Fuji pointed at the white moon overhead. "Apparently, the moon's beams are focused by the Crystal, and because of the high exposure of light and chemicals from the moon's rays, the Werewolves are transformed to their strongest state."

They were in the garden. After many days just talking in Fuji's room, Ryoma grew bored with the few shabby volumes Fuji kept, so Fuji sought permission for them to enter the library. Within a month, Ryoma had stripped bare a whole section, feeding his hunger for knowledge, and asking so many questions. Currently, Ryoma was holding a thick tome about Werewolves.

"If there are chemicals from the moon's beam, then why aren't we affected by it?" Ryoma cocked his head to the side.

"These chemicals only become potential harm when in huge amounts. Remember, the Crystal focuses the moon's rays." Fuji said. "These chemicals do have effects. Your wings are the most vulnerable."

Ryoma glanced quizzically at Fuji before bringing his wings in front of his face. Under the little light the Asuwarite Moon shed, he could see a minute change to his feathers. They weren't a dazzling white anymore. They had lost their shine and were now a dreary white with a hint of grey, like the colour of the mist or the air you breathe on a frosty morning. How long had he stayed here? A few months? Then how long had Fuji being here for his wings to become completely black?

"Of course, the graying is also due to the lack of presence of the sun," Fuji continued to explain in a casual manner. "Not enough light from the moons here, and not to mention the vitamins and minerals that the moons of Heaven give off."

"How long have you been here, Fuji?" Ryoma glanced at the black wings in awe.

Fuji had a faraway and pained look. "Since the end of the last Great War."

"That was half a millennium ago! I was born a year after the last Great War finished!"

"Ah."

Ryoma looked up from the black wings to see Fuji's face. He had a clammed in look, like he didn't want to talk, though his ever-present, plastic smile was still there. Immediately, Ryoma wanted to fuel his curiosity. How did Fuji get captured? What does the High Lord look like? How come he's still alive even after so many years in Hell, where he would be tortured? Did he ever know some friends that Ryoma knows? After all, didn't Tezuka say something like he had lived through the last Great War? Ryoma decided to voice his thoughts.

"Then do you know a Tezuka Kunimitsu?" Ryoma said, blunt and straight to the point, the only way Ryoma knew way.

Fuji whipped around and stood still like a statue. He stared at Ryoma, but wasn't looking at him. His eyes were pools of water, swirling around, Ryoma noted. But his expression was what caught his attention. It was a distanced look, and one filled with longing, pain and sadness. But all these emotions fluttered across his face in less than a split second and the plastic smile returned.

"Saa, yes I happen to do so," Fuji said serenely, though after spending a few months with him, Ryoma could tell where cracks in his mask were, though Ryoma could never detect what caused the fissures. Today was no different.

"Then, would you know Kikumaru-san?" Ryoma pursued, interested. "Or, Atobe-san? Yukimura? How about Yuuta? He has same surname as you. And—"

"I know them," Fuji's curt answer shocked Ryoma a bit, not to mention how he cut across his sentence too. Fuji would never do that. "If you'll excuse me."

Ryoma watched the back of Fuji enter the castle, the black wings brushing against the door as it closed, the booming sound echoing slightly in the enclosed area made by the garden walls. Still staring at the large oak doors and ignoring the many stares the Moe gardener's gave him, Ryoma had an urge to go after Fuji and comfort him, but he was rooted to his spot. Kirihara's words came back to him loudly, as if Kirihara was just beside him but talking in a whisper.

"It was a few minutes from the sealing of the Gate… We all shot up through it but one was too late. The Creatures were grabbing onto to him. We tried pulling him in, but it was no use... Then we lost him…WE LOST HIM!

"_WE LOST FUJI SYUUSUKE!"_

What was he feeling? Now that Ryoma remembered exactly who was Fuji, what did he feel? What was this thing welling up inside him? Pity? Sympathy? They were so alike. Their friends where too late to rescue them, they were dragged to Hell against their will and held captive. Did he now respect Fuji? After all, he was here longer, a veteran at surviving in this unwelcome place. Ryoma shook his head. Expressing himself had never been his forte, and if he ever did meet a strong feeling, he would hide behind his façade of loftiness until he had wrestled with the emotion and came out victorious, if not… well, there had never been a 'if not'.

So what now? All Ryoma could think of doing was return to Fuji's room.

**.x.X.x.**

"My Lord," Fuji tried to flatter the High Lord as he entered the dim room with a bow. As was his duty, he had to report of any progress with this special prisoner. Of course, the High Lord knew at once that the brat, Echizen, was going to be a key factor in the war, so all credit goes to him, but it was Fuji who saw the very usefulness of Echizen. "I have found a connection between the Angel Echizen Ryoma and the head of the Angels' High Council, Tezuka Kunimitsu."

The only response Fuji got was a low hum of agreement. He tensed.

"There are many ways we can use this information, like threaten the Angels with Echizen's life…" Fuji sensed the foul mood the High Lord was in and quickly fell quiet.

"How long has this being Fuji?" A low, husky voice murmured in a dangerous tone. "How long will this go for? You know I don't like those who delay, those who fail my expectations."

Fuji gulped silently. "I need more time, the Angel does not open up easily."

"I suggest you open him up quickly," the High Lord stepped into view. His black cloak swished around his body and his hair cascaded in a white waterfall. The picture would be perfect of a wise man, if not for the torn batwings the Lord sported and the red eyes that spoke of insanity, hunger and vengeance. He came up in front of Fuji, who had backed into the closed door almost immediately when he felt the Lord move, and, with those papery claws, he gripped Fuji's shoulder in an inhumane death hold until the shoulder was numb from the pain coursing through it.

"The Angels, they hold _love_"— the High Lord spat the word out in disgust— "in the highest regard. They treasure it. They would do anything for this _love_."

The High Lord paused and Fuji expected the worst.

"I want you to get him to _love_ you."

Fuji quickly composed himself. He wiped out all thoughts, all feelings, until he was just a shell, incasing nothing. This was how he had got himself past the last five hundred years, and the empty mask could serve him for another millennium yet.

"If he loves you, he _will_ open up. It is a definite."

But as Fuji left the Lord's chambers, he couldn't think. Was love really the most powerful emotion? Or was it something else?

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for not updating. Arghh. I'm gonna be using Leite Destiny's idea very soon. There's gonna be huge leaps of time, so bare with me. I never planned this out in the first place, just worked from one idea, so that's why it's very… jumpy?

**Special Mentions**:  
little angel of the sea, Leite Destiny, OPFAN, MysteriousEyez, truckerhat52, shebajay, thfourteenth, Kat_sakura, tsub4ki.

**x. TANgled**


	10. Chapter 9

**Black and White Wings**

Fuji was being distant lately, that much Ryoma can tell. And every time Ryoma was near Fuji, Fuji would always be staring at him with a thoughtful expression. It was unnerving to feel the penetrating gaze on him all the time, and Ryoma was almost sorry for pestering him about Tezuka, Atobe, Kikumaru and the others. Almost. Whenever Ryoma caught himself pitying the fallen Angel, he would remind himself, brutally, that Fuji was in league with the High Lord of Hell, and that such emotions would be the cause of his death.

He buried himself in the books Fuji gave to him, trying to forget his one companion and his strange ways. Months passed this way and slowly, Ryoma found something happening. Fuji was subtle, that much Ryoma was sure, because it had taken him a week to realize what Fuji was doing differently. Every night before they retired to the one bed in the room, Fuji would now bid him goodnight. The first few times Ryoma had brushed it off, but at one week, it was strange. And slowly, slowly, Fuji would add on to what he said last night.

"What did you learn today, Ryoma-kun," Fuji said sincerely as he sat on the bed. That was another thing too, the use of his first name. Ryoma did not remember ever giving Fuji permission to use his given name, so he frowned but refrained from commenting. Instead it was just a mental note.

"Nothing much," came Ryoma's emotionless reply.

"Oh really? I remember giving you a book on the history of Hell," Fuji said as he randomly plucked a subject from the air. Well, small talk is a start.

"Not interesting."

"I find the creation of habitable earth from raging fire very remarkable, especially if its just one person."

"What is this? High-Lord-ism." Ryoma snorted under his breath. He turned his head away to show that he wasn't participating in the conversation any longer and promptly pulled the covers up.

They lay there like that, Ryoma on his side, staring into the fire that was glowing dimly in the fireplace and Fuji staring at the shadows that danced across the canopy. It was a while before anyone talked and Ryoma was drowsy with sleep.

"Tomorrow I'll show you the grounds so that I don't have to always guide you," Fuji said quietly. "I'll be going on a mission soon. The Moe's can't function without a hand."

Ryoma grunted and fell asleep.

**.x.X.x.**

Dammit!

Ryoma ran a hand through his hair. He was lost. Of all things! He forgot to bring the map with him and Fuji was currently away. If it wasn't for the rooms, which looked identical to one another, he may be able to find his way back. Frustrated, Ryoma took the only option that presented itself: to keep on walking until he found Fuji's room. He turned corners over corners, marched up and down stairways, strode into rooms, but not once was it Fuji's bedroom. He didn't even know which floor he was on!

Do this in an orderly fashion, Ryoma scolded himself and climbed up the stairs to the top. He stopped at a landing and pushed the door open. It led into a corridor, at the end of which were two… _things_ guarding a door. They were hideous. One had an oversized beak with small, golden, beady eyes on a bloated, pig head with large wrinkles. The head was set on board shoulders, padded with armour that covered the whole body. Its hands were paws, most likely with retractable claws. Ryoma glanced to the other one. It had the head of a lion, a snake's tail and the watery eyes of a rat. Both creatures were holding spears and looked so fierce that, without his magic, Ryoma was afraid to face them.

Their eyes turned towards the direction were Ryoma was, but the boy Angel was no longer there. He was down the stairs, telling himself that the best way to find Fuji's room was to trace his route from the dungeon. In minutes he was at the very bottom of the castle and breathing heavily, but not so much. Tennis was helpful sometimes.

It was dark here. The hall had so many doors leading off it and it stank, a mixture of the metallic tang of blood, acidic urine and sweat. It was so damp that moss grew, even without the light and the warmth only encouraged this further. Somehow the dungeons were stifling, not only from the heat that seem to radiate from the walls, but the humid air so full of memories of Ryoma's time and other Angel's. He thought back to the monsters guarding the top floor. It must be something, or someone, very important for the place to be guarded so well. It was a curious place; perhaps he would ask Fuji later.

Ryoma trailed a finger along the walls. He walked close to it, avoiding the flickering, weak light the scant torches threw, and a few turns until he was outside his former prison. He placed a hand against the door. Memories burrowed into his mind, about the bloody tortures, the insatiable hunger that gnawed at his dry throat and the hell that he lived in (literally and figuratively speaking). Fuji's sadistic smile shone down at him, like the weeping moon in Hell's night sky and Ryoma withdrew his hand sharply, as if the door had just burnt him. The present was the present, he furiously scolded himself, and nothing else matters, like in a tennis match, only watch the ball and where it is going.

But he forgot to watch his opponent.

Ryoma quickly checked to see if anyone was around then looked at the simple lock on the door. Even with the magic restriction imposed onto him by Fuji, he was pretty sure that such a lock could open. He concentrated hard on the lock, locking his mind on the magic force, gathering his Will and Control. He didn't release his magic yet, but kept on building it up slowly within his mind, an endless sea of darkness and if he closed his eyes, he could float on that darkness within him. Ryoma let a small trickle of magic, so minuscule that the spell that Fuji put on him wouldn't be triggered, and placed his hand on the lock. When his magic had washed the insides of the lock, wiping it clean, he nudged the darkness inside him down to his fingertips then, like a dam breaking down, forcibly pushed the magic into the lock, hopefully destroying whatever mechanisms was inside it. Ryoma didn't have enough time to delicately pick the lock because soo his head was spinning crazily and a throbbing started in his temples. He pushed at the door weakly and it gave way for Ryoma to stumble in, clutching his head. He hurriedly slammed the door with care and slid down to the floor. His breath came in short bursts and his arms were trembling. He stayed like that for a few minutes until he felt relatively normal again.

"Ano… Who're you?" A tentative voice floated from the darkness. From the little light the White Moon, Asuwarite, spilled through the barred window, Ryoma could just make out the shivering silhouette of a person suffering from severe malnutrition. Her bonny limbs were wrapped around skinny legs. She was so thin that it seemed she was out of proportion. Her two, mahogany plaits laid around her legs. Tufts of hair were coming loose from their braids. "You don't look like a Demon." She gasped softly. "Don't hurt me please! I beg of you, fallen Angel! I'll tell you everything if you just don't hurt my grandmother!"

Ryoma realised that he was in the shadows. He stood up shakily on his legs and took some stumbling steps towards the captive Angel. As he did, he spread out his wings, which he usually hid in an alternate, physical dimension. His wings were duller than ever, most were silver, some were tinged a lead grey, but still his wings held what white that was the Angels and the girl stopped muttering her pleas. He bent down to her form and tried to comfort her. His words were halted as he tried to search for the appropriate terms. He _was_ known as the Ice Prince of Seigaku (after the ever cold Tezuka).

"Are you Echizen Ryoma?" The girl stuttered. "The tennis sensation, the genius boy who was recruited in the top army section, Seigaku—"

Ryoma grunted.

"Ah? I'm s-sorry! Was that a yes or a no?" Ryoma could tell that the girl would've bowed if she had the strength.

"Yes."

"Uwah!" The girl's eyes widened. "Oh! Everyone's looking for you! They've been searching the whole Earth for the Gate of Hell just so they could get you. I'm sure they're up there right now!"

"Now?" Ryoma's eyes darted to the Moon outside.

"Yes. Is there something wrong?"

There was silence as Ryoma forced his brain to function. "_He_'s up there right now."

"Who?"

Ryoma stood up suddenly even though his legs were shaking still. "It's been nice talking to you… er…"

"Ryuuzaki, Ryuuzaki Sakuno."

"Ryuuzaki-san, but there is something I must do." With that, Ryoma strode over to the door, his cat-like face set in determination. His feet propelled him on its own as Ryoma pondered about what he should do. Fuji Syuusuke, former Angel, now Enemy to those who live Above, is roaming in on Earth while those who are allied to God, Enemies to He who is allied to Satan, are trying to search for him and those Angels trapped in Hell. Ryoma wondered what would happen if they saw Fuji's transformation. Ryoma almost smiled bitterly as he played out a scenario were everyone would be tricked into coming to Hell. He entertained these thoughts as he stepped into Fuji's room. It seemed ordinary, like how any room would seem and feel. One couldn't have recognized this room on presentation as a room of someone as dark as Fuji. Oh, but it was, and Ryoma now felt the heavy atmosphere. It seemed to be the same as the dungeons, a wave of something negative, an emotion that Ryoma couldn't quite catch, but he just put it down as bad 'chi' from the darkness.

He slammed the door closed, though he made sure not to make any unnecessary noise, and quickly marched to the desk. Judging by the height of the Moon, he had but one hour to do something. Taking out a quill, ink and paper, he set out to quickly write down a plan. He listed his necessary items (food, weapons, rope, armour if he could get his hands on one), his dangers (Werewolves, Moes, dead ends…), then he set to carefully copy the map that Fuji gave him unto the paper. He was thoroughly absorbed in his work that he didn't notice the time passing by until the door creaked open. Ryoma sat up alarmed, but knew that he had to act very casual and opened a book as Fuji slipped into the room. His plans are going to have to wait.

**.x.X.x.**

They were in bed again. Ryoma had long gotten used to the strange biological clock of the Demons. He stared at the depths of the magical fire dimly radiating in its hearth. It was just a tiny reminisce of the fiery Suns of Heaven. The flames licked the hearth hungrily, as if it wanted to burst into a Sun. Ryoma contemplated what the other people would be doing now. He guessed that Tezuka may be orchestrating some operation behind a façade, Oishi most likely would be running around like a headless chicken along with Kikumaru, and Yukimura would be worried. Yukimura probably was scaring everyone like he does when he gets serious. The only one he could rely on to be still his usual self was Niou, the damned Trickster. Maybe the Monkey King too. Ryoma sighed almost inaudibly.

"I saw them today," Fuji spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. "They're faring quite well."

Ryoma stayed silent and stared at the flames. Minutes ticked by and slowly Ryoma felt his eyelids begin to droop.

"Say, what do you like? There are many things that Heaven has that Hell don't," said Fuji softly. His tone was genuinely gentle. Seeing the Angels was nostalgic. "I remember that Heaven had the best scenery around. I often took photos. It was a hobby."

A light snore and a mumbled word that sounded like 'Karupin' broke the silence. Fuji leaned over to look at the little Angel. Ryoma was strong. He remembered that at the number of months that Ryoma had gone through, Fuji's wings were already a dull grey. But Ryoma's was still a slivery hue. Ryoma was strong, physically and emotionally. Fuji smiled down at Ryoma and ran his fingers through the silky, dark green hair. He sincerely hoped that Ryoma may be able to live through this darkness.

* * *

**A/N**: Eep! 131 days since the last chapter! Ack. Sorry!

Well, if you love this story, help me continue it! You can do this by visiting my homepage and vote in the poll! If I just get a rough idea of how many chapters is good, then I can actually plan this story out. No writing on whims. But I still can't guarantee regular updates. Still, help an author-in-arms and vote or review/pm me with an answer!

Now, onto the very awesome people who reveiwed! It's been so long that I can't remember whether or not I've replied to your reviews, so... I won't reply. I don't like it when authors make their stories seemingly long by adding replies to reviews. But i like acknowledgements.

dawn chase, MizzDarknezz, Mizuki-sempai, Tsuki the Ryuujin no Miko, Nemesis Crow, thfourteenth, MysteriousEyez, Leite Destiny, shebajay, afallenheart, Sileny, MARYLOVER, Kat_sakura, edenforest1, truckerhat52, little angel of the sea, tsub4ki.

I thank you all for reviewing, and to those who don't, I still thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 10

**Black and White Wings**

* * *

It was that night that Fuji dreamed. He dreamt his first dream since been taken under the care of the High Lord. It was disjointed and very hazy. But it would haunt him for a few days yet. In it were the Angels of Heaven, pure white and powerful, yet stained with bright blood. They stood against the High Lord defiantly but ultimately they wouldn't be able to prevail.

Tezuka was there, his army uniform of white and blue had streaks of red, and his shirt of mail had gaps in it where powerful magic had destroyed the metal rings. He wore no helm, he bore no shield, nor did he wield any bow and arrows, and his sword was bent. His legs were shaking with the effort of bearing his weight, but sheer will locked them in place. Beside Tezuka stood Yukimura, tall and proud, no longer wearing his smile. His eyes were hard and cold with no hint of pain as he clutched his side where he had been wounded. On the other side of Tezuka Atobe glared. Blood oozed from a slash on his head though it was bounded tightly by a length of white cloth. His arrogant, perfect face was twisted into one full of wrath.

Ranks upon ranks of men stood behind these three powerful leaders. White were their wings, white and bright. A mass of light to light the dark that stood opposite them.

The High Lord, his pale and papery face was pulled back into a smirk. His ripped wings beating fruitlessly, every searching for the heavenly sky they had once beat in. He was once God's favoured yet his betrayal for Satan earned him eternal banishment in Hell; his wings were torn so he couldn't find that blue sky ever again. His hatred was radiating off him as he revealed, from beneath his black, fluttering cloak, what must have been his best weapon to use against the army of light. As the High Lord slowly drew back his cloak, Fuji gasped. For there, within the dark folds, stood Ryoma. His wings were black, but not a glossy black. It was dull and feathers were falling out in patches. His honey coloured eyes were unseeing as he stepped out. Clad in all black with a mail coat, he stood like a black hole. Power flowed off him in humming waves as he stepped towards Tezuka and the others.

"Do you dare?" The High Lord's voice rang in Fuji's ears. "Do you dare to hurt this Angel?"

No one moved.

"Thought not. Your love is your downfall. That you would sacrifice yourself for the life of another." At that the High Lord of Hell, Satan's Right Hand Man, let off a cracked cackle of laughter at which Fuji shuddered.

Ryoma, seemingly unbidden, lifted up a hand. It started to glow, at first a pearly white but quickly was swallowed by tendrils of black issuing from the tips of his fingers. A dark orb formed in his palm. It crackled with electricity. Fuji, reading his intention, moved forward to intercept before the orb grew too big and he blast it towards the Angels. But, as Fuji reached out to grab Ryoma's wrist, his fingers passed through, like a ghost. Indeed, he had no physical body. And Fuji could only watch as the black orb swelled up to the size of a bloated watermelon and leave Ryoma's hand. Fast as light it sped towards Tezuka and the others standing unmoving. Fuji looked on as his vision was filled with shadowy blackness as the orb exploded.

Fuji woke up in cold sweat. As with all dreams and nightmares, the finer points slipped from his mental grasp. He sat there shivering in the coldness of the stone room before flicking a hand towards the fireplace to make the ever-present fire glow brighter. The fire did nothing to banish the cold. No. Though it raised the temperature of the room by a few degrees, it could not remedy the cold that Fuji felt inside of him.

He groped beside him, hoping to feel reassurance from the Angel that was the centre of his dream. His hand came in contact with silky hair and he traced it down to the smooth face of Ryoma. Fuji let out a shaky breath. He shook his head slightly and got up from the bed. Walking over to the door, he cleaned himself up with magic and spelled on new clothes. He had to keep focus now. The High Lord had set him a task, a task that he should never fail in, lest he anger the Lord. The Lord's ire was something to be truly afraid of and Fuji would rather not face it.

Yet, he was questioning his thoughts.

Fuji shook his head once again before turning the knob and plastered his trademark fake smile on his face then glided towards the dungeons.

**.x.X.x.**

Ryoma yawned and sat up in bed. He had long ago lost the habit of flicking his wrist to get dressed but still he wished he had his magic back. He trudged over to a wash stand in the far corner and splashed cold water onto his face, waking himself up thoroughly. Not bothering to change his clothes, he ambled over to Fuji's desk and pulled out his plan.

There wasn't much on it. Only that he should probably make a dash for it on a day that Fuji was away on business to Earth and go to the dungeons. It seemed most likely that the sewers were there and what other way to escape. It was probably the most used, most clichéd escape route but it wasn't like he could just say 'bye!' and stroll out of the front door. So that was on his to-do list: check out the dungeons for any openings to the sewers.

The next part he now had to do was to gather items to assist in his escape. On his piece of paper was rope, knife, cloak and change of clothes, enough food to last at least a week on the run and water too. He also needed his magic back and he wondered if he could trick Fuji into lifting the spell. Ryoma sat there for a while trying to think of a way to break down the barrier Fuji had put up. His smile had a new edge of plastic, as if someone had gone and coated it again. And his eyes were always hidden behind closed lids, even if Ryoma did something unexpected.

Ryoma just sat and wondered. Well, he thought to himself almost dejectedly, my goal is just to get out of here and if I return to Heaven, I'm sure Tezuka or someone would have enough magic to undo this seal.

He slumped down his seat and glared at the crescent moon that showed in the window above the desk. So alike it was to Heaven's moons, it was like a drop of that blissful paradise that God had so willingly gave. But it was Hell and the starless sky spelt that out loud and clear. Ryoma wished he was on his way home.

* * *

**A/N**: Yup, fast update~ I hope this quickness will continue. Short chapter though. Sorry. According to my plan, it's all I can divulge to you. 21 days since last chapter! Yes! Oh and average number of reviews per chapter is currently at 8.2. I reckon that's still good. Not as good as a perfect 10. Oh wells, still good.

Thank you to:

little angel of the sea, dawn chase, tsub4ki, MARYLOVER, Leite Destiny, truckerhat52, thfourteenth, shebajay, MizzDarknezz, Sileny, Gyokuei Kuragari, shemeno, Mizuki-sempai.


	12. Chapter 11

**Black and White Wings**

Notes: Gruesome scene at the end. Not for the very, very faint-hearted.

* * *

Ryoma opened one eyelid and then the other. Sleep slowly rolled off him and he sat up in the Victorian bed. As the haze in his yet resting mind faded out, Ryoma smirked. He felt the excitement he felt on the morning before a big tennis match or tournament. Fuji was gone for at least a day and he had all the time to explore the dungeons. It had been a week, but Ryoma decided to be patient and he was rewarded. Now, with map in hand, he headed on his way towards the dungeons. He by passed the torches in brackets on the wall, not bothering to take one because he found them a nuisance to carry.

He decided to do this in an orderly fashion, starting in one corner and going to the others. And as he walked he traced his path with a pen. After all, who knew where his terrible sense of direction could lead him to? So he walked about in the damp, warm darkness, always skirting the actual dungeon cells. He made a mistake once, and turned one corner too early, nearly ramming into perhaps about ten Creatures of Hell. He quickly sank back into the shadows and observed them.

They were in the shape of hunched over humans. Their shoulder blades stuck out and their muscled arms hung to their bent knees. They were unkempt, their clothes in tattered rags and their hair stuck up, covered in slime and filth that not even God would know where it came from. Ryoma gritted his teeth when he saw one turn towards his direction. The glazed pearly white-blue eyes stared unseeing at him and the nose twitched as he took one step closer to the Angel. Ryoma could tell that they were Werewolves. And he was thankful that he had researched them up. The moon wasn't full, in fact it was waning towards a new moon, so Ryoma had nothing to worry about, only the delicate nose of the monster that was in front, detecting the warmth of his blood.

"I smell prey..." The Werewolf drawled. Drool fell from his mouth. "I want prey. Lovely fresh meat to eat."

"There's no time to be thinking about food, you imbecile!" another Werewolf snarled. This Werewolf seemed to be the ringleader. He had white hair standing up as tufts on his head and his pearly eyes were roving around as his nose twitched. "I don't care if you've smelt God or not, but if we don't carry out our orders, the High Lord will exterminate us and our kind."

"If he does, we kill," the Werewolf who first found Ryoma said. "We kill, kill, kill. We love blood, we get blood."

"He'll catch us in the damned new moon. Like it is right now. Even a sick Angel without any magic can defeat us as we are."

The Werewolf just growled as he realised the truth and turned away. Ryoma cocked a smirk. Though a weak Angel being able to take out Werewolf is not true, Ryoma was amused at how the Werewolves were so afraid of him.

"We have to dump this load of dead Angels into the sewers," The ringleader was now saying. "It's all that fallen Angels fault. He keeps killing them off one by one. It's like he's a serial murderer or something."

"But the number of deaths is decreasing," another Angel said.

"Yeah you don't hear any screams right now do you?"

"He must be getting sentimental! Ha. That'll show the High Lord that fallen Angels aren't trustworthy!"

There was raucous laughing at the statement. The sound was as horrible as the time when Kikumaru accidentally scrapped his nails while cleaning the board rather too enthusiastically. Ryoma stuffed his fists into his ears to block out the sound. He was thankful for the Werewolves lack of good eyesight at new moon. Really, anyone could've seen him as he shuddered and shrank away from the Werewolves.

"Now where're the sewers?" The ringleader now had control over the group.

"Forward until the end and to the right. It's hidden as a brick. I think it's the second one up and five across," a surprisingly intelligent Werewolf responded somewhat slowly.

"Screw this," a Werewolf rasped. "I want fresh meat. Angel meat is good even if it's rotten. Let's eat these."

A chorus of 'Eat' and 'Angel meat!' rose up as Ryoma internally shuddered. He was disgusted and felt like throwing up, but he contained himself and quietly slipped away as the Werewolves were still cheering. He slipped by the light of the torches they were holding up and followed the Werewolves instructions. As he reached the place, his stomach turned when elt the blood of his kind. He didn't want to go back that way.

The bricks that made up the walls were huge, around a metre in length and half in height. He felt the wall with his hands, feeling for any sign of a door. He was triumphant as he touched an unnatural crack. He trailed his hands all over the stone door and found a dent which he took to be a handle to open and close. He slipped his fingers underneath and tried to open it. It was heavy so he used both hands. Only, as he opened it a centimetre, the stone grate against stone and Ryoma closed it in a hurry as padded footsteps headed his way. He dashed around the opposite corner, away from the sound of intruders and waited.

A man approached. Unlike the Werewolves from before it was a Vampire, tall and erect with squinty reddish-pink eyes. His hair trailed onto the floor in the Vampire fashion and his black cloak was better off than the Werewolves' rags. Nevertheless, the Vampire was still wearing travel worn clothes. He hissed like a snake at the sewerage door and spat at it.

"Foolish Werewolves," he stated, "must've forgotten to close the damned door."

The Vampire walked on, away from where Ryoma was hiding and from the partying Werewolves. Ryoma dreaded going back the way he came, but quietly looked down onto the map Fuji gave him and drew a small cross where he was with a stubby pencil and contemplated which tunnel he should now take. That being done, he was quickly on his way out of there.

When he arrived in Fuji's room, Ryoma decided to take a cat nap. He also promised himself that once he got to Heaven— indeed, if he ever will be able to— he would take a nice, hot bath for hours, while testing various bath salts.

.x.X.x.

A thunder roared past the last gate into the castle areas. A thunder of hooves as horse-like creatures galloped past. They had no manes, no tails and covered in shiny, sweat-coated, black skin. They were uncomfortable to ride on as saddles did not exist in Hell and most were lame, two feet being shorter than the rest, creating an unbalanced rhythm while riding. Though it gave Fuji a sore backside and stiff limbs every time he rode one, it was the swiftest and most reliable way around Hell. Werewolves, when they transformed, was a good method of transportation, but now, when the Moon is weak, they were weak too.

Fuji slid off his mount and some Vampires did the same. Moes came flocking in after them. The metal gate behind them clanged close with a note of finality. It never used to bother Fuji but now it seemed to bring back the thought that he was jailed and cannot keep up his facade any longer. Almost claustrophobic. In a depressed mood, he handed authority over to the Vampire who was second in charge and left the grounds.

He wanted to find his beacon of hope. To be able to feel like he wasn't just an empty void. To be able to smile a genuine smile, not the plastic one he has on now. To question himself what is right and what is wrong. To be able to see the blue sky again and wonder at the marvellous suns of Heaven. To be able to be free and run from this darkness. Ryoma made him feel like this was all possible. His determination to defy the High Lord was aspiring. If only he could rid himself of the fear he feels.

He treaded softly through the matted corridors of the castle. His feet took him to where his bedroom lied, and if he was a hopeless romantic, he would most likely say something along the lines of 'as if the presence of Ryoma was pulling him in' or 'as fate would have it, he found himself in front of the very room Ryoma was currently occupying'. But who was he kidding? He knew the castle like the back of his hand and given that he didn't, years of isolation in such dark world as this threw all that sort of thoughts out.

Fuji quietly opened the door and slipped in like a shadow. He was decked in all black today, so it wasn't hard to merge with the dimness of the room as the cheerless fire had dwindled to a mere flicker. On the large bed, Fuji saw a lump lying there. Knowing that Ryoma was a heavy sleeper, he casually walked towards the lump and bent down to peer into the face of the Angel. So tranquil did it look that Fuji's heart ached for the same peace. And Ryoma's wings, he noticed soon after gazing at the face, was still a pearly grey. How long had it been since Fuji first saw this bright Angel? Three months, or near that long. How long had he been stuck here, in this hole of a place? Half a millennium and a bit more. Fuji sighed as he reached out a had to touch the wings. He wished they were still an unstained white, like before all this happened. He brushed it with just the fingertips of his hand and felt how soft it was. His own feathers were coarse. He sighed softly once more before flitting out of the room towards the dungeons.

One bleary, honey-coloured eye opened. "Fuji?"

.x.X.x.

Fuji stalked into the dungeons unwillingly. The further he got away from Ryoma the more irritated he felt. He couldn't tell if it were because he was jealous of Ryoma for his complacency in sleep and he didn't have to do anything, or it were because he wanted to stay close to Ryoma. Nonetheless, reason or no reason, he was not in a good mood as he followed the dark tunnels around the dungeon.

First he had to check that the Vampires and Werewolves were doing their jobs. He usually had the Kuroiishis to report everything, but they were all currently in the service of the High Lord. That only made him all the more irate. The prisoners had to be fed properly, the dead ones chucked into the sewerage to decompose, and the new supply of provisions for the prison wards and guards to be ordered and stored neatly for the use of the next whole week.

Fuji prowled the tunnels, checking for signs of minimal care and growled every time he saw a bowl not retrieved. However he was aware that he grimaced when ever there was evidence the captives weren't eating. He finished the circuit of inspection and returned to a section of the dungeons were the dead bodies were usually piled up.

Even before he turned the corner, he had a feeling that all was not well. And when he rounded the bend, he stood shock-still. It wasn't a pleasant sight. Even if it were your enemy lying there, it was enough to make even the stoic men ran towards the lavatories. The bodies of Angels— for their white wings were shredded and lying in piles on the ground— were gone. In its place were corpses with meat still hanging off and clothes too. The bones, where they were showing, had gnaw marks on them. Fuji recognised the head of a very young Angel, younger than even Ryoma, and saw that his bones were scattered. Unseeing eyes stared at Fuji as if accusing him of their treatment and the mouths were hung open, as if silently screaming.

Fuji regained his senses, and stumbled backwards a few steps. His blue eyes were scanning the horrendous scene in front of him and his stomach turned and twisted. He held up a hand against the wall to stabilise himself. He flinched when he felt a sticky substance come into to contact with his palm and drew away from the wall to take a look. Blood. Dull red blood, old blood, rotten blood. He should be used to this, his mind screamed, he saw blood pouring from wounds he inflicted himself on poor Angels. Yet a thought came to him. What if it were Ryoma? Fuji shuddered. He turned his back on the scene, the blood, the corpses. He'll deal with the Werewolves. He'll make them pay. He clenched his fist and strode away, once more with that plastic smile upon his face.

After all, the weakest flame still holds warmth.

* * *

A/N: Ah, not really gruesome. Seeing as I don't usually write such things... Well, what can I say? Oh yes, this is an issue brought up by Hikari Kita Natsuyaki, I haven't introduced any 'demons' proper. The term 'demons' is used to describe anyone or anything living (or originating) in Hell. The High Lord is not a demon, he is a fallen Angel. I'll get to his story later, though it really doesn't have anything to do with the plotline.

Thank yous go to these LOVELY AND AWESOME PEOPLE who reviewed:

little angel of the sea, truckerhat52, Talia Gea, tsub4ki, dawn chase, Sileny, Leite Destiny, edenforest1, Gyokuei Kuragari, MizzDarknezz, BleuFleur, shebajay, Hikari Kita Natsuyaki. And the epically awesome thfourteenth, even if your review isn't technically counted.

P.S. It's been 30 days, exactly, from my last update.


	13. Chapter 12

**Black and White Wings**

Notes: Swearing.

* * *

Fuji walked up the stairs towards the room left aside for the jail wardens. It was a cold room, lit with a weak fire that cast dancing shadows across the room. There was a large table in the middle where cards were usually played and a billiards table set against the wall. It would be dragged out whenever people felt like playing, but the other table would have to be removed, for the room was a small one. There were benches around the outside of the square room and Fuji settled into one close to the fireplace. Then he noticed it, the stench. The Werewolves must've been here before. With rotting flesh on their hands. Or, more likely, in their mouths. Fuji grimaced as his stomach did a tumbling dance. His fingers curled into a fist. Even if it were he who tortured them, he would not go so far as to vandalise their body like that. Even if it were a Werewolf.

No, most of the prisoners died from lack of will to live.

It was easy to see the light extinguish as they realised where they were. How they just curled in onto themselves, seeing nothing but the dark ahead. They accepted everything as it was, maybe not blurting their secrets straight out, but they were easy to crack. It made Fuji wonder why he was alive. Shouldn't he have transformed into a miserable ball when he stepped into this place? Like all the others, lost sight of hope? Then Fuji realised. No, he had been grappling to false hope all along, when the High Lord had extended his hand. He had done what his survival instincts told him to do; he had grabbed that hand. He despised himself. He had repeated so many times to himself—to the point it actually convinced him—that it was the only way he could live. He had buried those questioning doubts a long time ago under many layers of unemotional masks. Then Ryoma came waltzing into Hell, showed him a way he _could_ live if he had the strength and courage to. Showed him that the light he had seen was just merely an artificial lamp, a small mockery of the sun.

Fuji felt alive like he never had been before. It was… refreshing, fantastic, amazing…

But really what could he do? Now Fuji could really open his eyes, and he saw a timeless life here in Hell, torturing Angels, seeing them squirm, painful, pleading, surrender… Fuji quickly shook his head. No.

He opened his eyes, having unconsciously closed them, and then stood. Here he was in the prison ward's room, and here he was with a warmth rekindled. Fuji glided out of the room without a second glance back.

.x.X.x.

"Fuji?"

Silence.

Ryoma thought as much. Fuji had been on too many errands for the High Lord recently and seemed to never come back to their room. Drowsily he corrected himself. It's been over three months and gradually Ryoma had been saying the things in Fuji's room were his own, but he always caught himself before he could blurt. Unfortunately not as well when half-asleep, as he proved just then by getting out of _their_ bed. Ryoma sighed tiredly, it's _Fuji's _bed. He mindlessly went to feel the space next to him. Cold. Fuji had been gone a long time now. Half of him wondered if that was a good thing, because the other half thought that he should enjoy the company of others his own kind. It didn't take a genius to know that being stuck in here with no one to talk to who were the same species as you could have detrimental effects. Well, if one didn't know, Ryoma mused, one cold read it on any article on solitary confinement, and really, he was in solitary confinement because Fuji wasn't there, no one else talked to him—the demons just leered at him—and the only ones he could talk to were shut up in the dungeons, where he preferably would like to avoid. Some days he found his voice slightly hoarse.

Ryoma retracted his hand, wondering where Fuji was. He let the thought go as he wandered to the desk. Behind cracks in the wall, he pulled out sheets of paper. They were his plans and drafts of plans. He had to keep them, who knows if those rubbish collectors could read and if they could, they would report that he was trying to break out. That would result in being sent back to the dungeons where there was absolutely no hope in escaping.

He rummaged through his paper and retrieved one that documented the days and the likely chance of an escape. It was a checklist of sorts. The very first criterion was whether or not Fuji was in the room. The next was whether or not the High Lord was in a good mood, after that was whether or not soldiers were sent out and so on so forth until the last one which the phase of the moons. So far the orange moon was a new moon, however the white moon was just beginning to wane. Ryoma cursed. He was not known to be a patient person, and three months was already considered a long time. Three months he had the notion of escape. And yet, time, an uncontrollable element, was obstructing his path.

He glanced down at his hands and cursed once again. The biggest drawback of the escape would be his limited magical power. Fuji still had it bound and restricted, so he'll have to fight all his fights with melee. Ryoma would rather have a whole pool of options he could fall back on if his sword or dagger was, say, chopped in half by some insanely powerful Vampire. He also had a faint tingling that it wasn't only going to be the Vampires and Werewolves, the two species that made up the bulk of the High Lord's army, on his back. He would have to be wary of Shapeshifters and those imp who so loved to lead people off their tracks with tantalising mirages along with another host of Demon spawn.

He cursed the Demon spawn, especially the Vampire and Werewolves. They were so abundant, and they were the opposites. Whereas the Werewolves grow weaker as the moon disappears, the Vampires' sights are heightened by the near-complete darkness. Ryoma will have to take that into account.

He gathered up his sheets and stuck them back into their various cracks, setting back over them the cracked mortar. His hands were quick and nimble from the repeated gesture. He glanced at his hands. They were sickly pale, when before they were tanned to a nice light golden colour. His fingers were bony, almost like grandmother's hands. The palm of the right still shone a red, but only where the scar ran. His Oath. He never ceased to recite them, being prompt on the dot when the twenty-four hours have passed. He then realised that now Fuji didn't care as much, didn't spit at him, didn't just storm out of the room in a huff. His eyes narrowed, a phrase coming to his head.

"Don't let your guard down."

He smiled a wry smile. He won't, he promised himself and the Tezuka voice in his mind, he won't let his guard down for even a split second and he will return to Heaven, no matter how long or how much it takes.

.x.X.x.

Fuji glared around the room. Oh he was mad alright, even the damned fools of the Werewolves knew that and kept quiet, save for the muted shuffles of feet. The silence unnerved them, and Fuji was inwardly glad. He could whip them—the Vampires would be all too happy to do the dirty work—or he could put them through the water bombing, the iron maiden, the rack… all the possibilities ran through his mind, and it must have shown on his face for some of the Werewolves shrank back.

He plastered a smile back onto his face, pulled merrier when some of the Wolves glanced around fearfully. "Now, can anyone tell the rest of their pack why this meeting was called?" He looked around the room in challenge and where he looked the temperature of the room dropped to sub-zero, never mind the fire crackling in the fireplace. "No one?" he went on at the silence. "Well then, I shall tell you why." His eyes opened in their original fury, fury when he first saw the bloodied corpses on the ground. "Someone here has disobeyed orders to deposit the bodies and instead ate them, leaving a bloody mess on the doorstep! There were clear orders—"

"It was for you, you filthy Angel!" One recklessly bold Werewolf, no doubt young, shouted. "Only you'd be so twisted—"

His words where cut off with a flick of Fuji's fingers. The young Wolf was sent to the ground gasping in silent pain. No one else stepped forward to challenge Fuji.

"I could send you all to the torture chambers, you know that…"Fuji nearly drawled. He noticed a shaky hand was raised to the back of the room. Probably thought he was safe, Fuji sneered. "Yes?"

"Didn't the cleaners clean it up?"

"Do you think anyone would clean this mess up when no one would even clean the dining hall? You amaze me with your idiocy."

"So that's a no?"

"What do you think?" Fuji snapped. "You Wolves are all stupid dogs who have nothing better to do than chase your tails everyday! You are lower than filth and even that is saying things lightly. You are unmannered, bloodthirsty beasts. You are witless gum stuck on my shoe. You are undeserving of this life. You are dull and dirty piece of fur ball a cat has vomited up." Fuji was snarling now, a biting and almost hysterical edge was in his voice. "You and your Crystal that you worship like some god can all suffer in the pits of a blackhole in the boundaries of the universe where no one has to look on your fucking disgusting faces! You are all shitty little bats who rely on the fucking moon of all things. The fucking fickle moon that changes like weather or the seasons. You and your Crystal—"

"We will not stand your insults on our Crystal!" Some voice hollered at him. "We will not stand for it!"

The wolves staggered onto their feet, chanting the phrase like a mantra. Like a wave surge, they were upon Fuji, only to be sent crashing into walls and into each other. One unlucky wolf was even caught in the fire. Fuji wielded his Magic from his seat, not even moving his arms or fingers now, just using his mental strength to knock all the Wolves out. He sent stools and benches, even the billiards table, at the wolves.

The wolves were strong as the orange moon was just beginning to wane. They slashed at the stools, ripping them in half, they sliced the benches with tooth and claw, and they broke the billiards table by punching a hole through it. One Wolf managed to take a lunge and scrape Fuji before having his air supply cut off from a knife pulled magically from another Wolf's belt. Fuji cursed mentally as he felt blood pouring from his right shoulder, and quickly healed it. But the damaged was already done.

The Werewolves roared as one, their bloodlust fuelled by the scent of Angel blood. Cursing himself for being hasty enough to take on so many Werewolves all at once, Fuji stood up, and concentrated on summon balls of energy. He knew it would cost him later, but his safety right now overruled any and all consequences. Blue spheres formed in his hands, their strength added by Fuji's adrenaline rush. He threw them, with great precision, at the two largest groups of Werewolves. The blue energy spheres crackled and exploded, probably killing the Werewolves. He'll get it now, he'll get it from the High Lord now—

A Werewolf suddenly appeared in front of Fuji out of the blue. Reflexes taking over, Fuji jumped backwards, trying to put distance between the two, only to fall when his foot caught his bench. He crashed none too gracefully onto his back, the Werewolf landing on top of him. The Werewolf raised a paw, ready to swipe at his face. Fuji grabbed the Wolf's throat with one hand and blocked the attack with the other then, with a grunt, threw the junk to the side. He followed up this move with a raised hand. The air in front of it rippled. The Wolf, who had being getting up to charge, was thrown backwards and straight into the wall. A sickening crack was heard as the skull fractured.

Wearily, Fuji stood up, the blood pounding in his head becoming louder in the silence. He looked around the room, stared at the destruction he had made. Wolf bodies were scattered in different poses of death, some artistic, some not. The stench of burnt fur suddenly hit Fuji, and he nearly reeled, not from the shock but from the grim triumph that accompanied it. Still he didn't get all the Wolves; the door was hanging ajar. He walked towards it, using the last of his adrenaline fuelled magic to set furniture back in place.

He'll order the Vampires to throw the bodies out. They would only be too glad to. He would answer the High Lord's summons—for it was obvious that he would get one from this level of destruction, Wolves aren't like the endless land, they have a finite supply—and ask calmly for more cleaners and more Vampires instead.

He stumbled out of the room, the heavy use of Magic taking its toll on him. The world swirled in front of him, making him dizzy and faint. He'd have to get into a secure room in case the Wolves come back and finish off their attack when he was still unconscious. He just had enough strength to pull his body together and start stumbling towards his office. He navigated the tunnels without even a thought, his feet on auto-pilot as he tripped and staggered, falling and crawling, dragged himself into his small room and shut the door with a clang, locking it.

He slid down the door, coming to rest on the cold ground. A faint fire flickered from a candle on his desk, the only thing that furbished the room. He glanced down at his hands. They still tingled from the power of his magic. They shook in the dimness, pale and cold. He had out rightly killed someone with these hands, not torture and left to wither, but killed. If he were in Heaven, he would have been condoned or even condemned.

He laughed. But he wasn't in Heaven. He was far from it, like the furthest stars from Earth. His laugh turned to weak and pathetic chuckles, then he fell silent, the black claiming his vision and mind.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for the very long hiatus (six months, like last time), and I thank you for your continued support during this break. This was actually a hard part to write, mainly because I introduced materials from the last chapter that wasn't in my plan. As they say, never plan too much. So I had to finish off what I started and managed to make it link back to my original plan.

And yes, Fuji swore. He's being nasty there.

Thank you, reviewers!

little angel of the sea, Sileny, lolgirl607, tsub4ki, xxx. yennii., Lis, MizzDarknezz, BleuFleur, Leite Destiny, Youkai Kisaki, thfourteenth (This time your review is counted XD), brightsun89, xxSnowxxAngelxx, FiOeX, ajas136, herbblood

**X. TANgled**


	14. Chapter 13

**Black and White Wings**

Notes: To clarify, because people were asking, the room Fuji is in at the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this is his working office, so Ryoma isn't there. The room Ryoma is in could be called the sleeping quarters. The room Fuji is in could be called the office proper.  
Warning: One swear word does appear.

* * *

Fuji awoke in his office, still leaning against the door. His backside felt raw, his arms screamed against staying in one position for so long and his back felt stiff. His neck cracked a few times when he moved it around, trying to exercise motion and when he stood up, his knees nearly gave way. But they held until he could make it to the chair. He sat himself down at his desk and took deep, shuddering breaths. He busied himself with whatever he could find on the desk—papers, pens, the rearrangement of them, even his hair was interesting to play with. It was uncharacteristic of him, he knew, but always, just before a summons he would—privately of course—become overtaken by nerves. His position was not safe—though one would think it were, being the favourite. He could be chucked out of this castle just as quickly as the next demon. Then, being the Angel he was born as, he wouldn't be safe in the land of Hell, even with the fighting prowess that was pounded into him during the open war period.

The dreaded knock on the door sounded. Tiresomely, Fuji stood up and allowed the messenger to enter. The door creaked open and he was faced with a smiling face, a malicious smile, not the deceivingly gentle smile he wore. Suddenly he didn't feel at all well—his stomach felt like it had just dropped a few feet— nothing terrible he said to himself, just a few feet—but he kept on smiling and nodded for the messenger to speak.

"The High Lord summons you, Angel Fuji Syuusuke," The smile didn't seem to move while it speaking. It was disconcerting to say the least and was the reason why Fuji never liked to deal with Shapeshifters. Nevertheless, Fuji gave a polite but murmured thank you in return. He stood up shakily, his plastic smile still plastered onto his face. With a nod, he finally dismissed the Shapeshifter. He glanced around his small office, almost wishing that it were his seeping headquarters and Ryoma were there. He could imagine it; Ryoma's smirk at his discomfort, telling him 'mada mada dane' as he locked the door and started down the dungeon tunnel, his footsteps echoing. He could hear just below the echoes the lurking shuffles of the Werewolves, but thankfully none dared to attack. He was still drained from the magic he had used earlier and he fretted and worried over what the High Lord would say.

He walked up the stone steps, ignoring the snickers of the Vampires. He'll drop by to see Ryoma later after attending to the High Lord then he'll grab something to eat, if his stomach let him. He thought little of the confrontation to come now, but of what to do afterwards, as if assuring himself that this meeting will not change anything and that everything will still be the way it was afterwards. Even if it did change, he would not know how. He was like a dot on a graph, knowing he had to move five units but not in which direction

He navigated the lonely and cold corridors by memory, his feet taking him deeper towards the dark heart. Silent, reluctant footsteps he took, slowing down until he hesitated in front of the elaborate oak doors. Even the stone golems, the Gargoyles, were laughing silently, their heads turning to greet him with twin grinding noises. He ignored them though his smile slipped for a moment. Could bad news travel so fast? He placed his hands on the handle, flinging them wide, revealing the room filled with veils covering the ceiling to the floor. He knelt on the floor, knowing that the High Lord had magical means to see across the hall. He did not want to disappoint, did not want his punishment to be more than it already is. He waited, the silence unnerving him, deafening his ears to the point where he could hear no more, not even the whisper of the veils. He waited, his smile slipping with each passing moment tie unravelling his confidence. When the High Lord finally spoke, he fought to hold a sigh of relief back.

"Syuusuke," that deep voice greeted him most possessively.

Fuji hummed in reply, seemingly casual and nonchalant, like answering a friend.

There was a pregnant pause, as if the High lord was mulling things over and if Fuji concentrated hard enough, he could hear faint grating noises from the Gargoyles. They were eavesdropping, that much was for certain, but whether they were succeeding or failing was currently a matter of opinion. Perhaps, Fuji concluded with the next words of the High Lord, that safe was always better than sorry.

"Syuusuke," the High Lord repeated, "it has been a while since you have last visited be in my private chamber. Allow me to invite you over so we can take out matters there."

Inwardly Fuji sighed. "Of course, My Lord."

He retreated out of the hearing hall, the Gargoyles' heads turning towards him. He nearly snorted at their pathetic display of normalcy. He had seen their heads snap forward before turning to him but how much of the conversation that they had heard, they gave no clue, choosing to stay silent. Fuji walked past them to the direction of Ryoma, deciding to forgo dinner for today.

x.X.x

Ryoma sat at the desk, flipping through the pages of a book. The words seemed to blur into one, thick line, then dance around the yellowed paper. His eyes could not look down, instead they would rise, unbidden, to glance at the cracks in the wall. Another minute of mindless page flipping and two more stolen glances, Ryoma sighed in defeat, pushing himself away from the desk.

He stood up, reached across the desk to pull away the mortar between the stones. He looked down at the numerous papers now littering the desk in numb bewilderment, only realising now how much he had thought about his escape. There was a bundle of cloth with all the other necessities—two knives he had stolen from the kitchen, a pair of worn boots and some clothes as well as some dry biscuits—hidden at the far corner of the dresser. He had nearly filled in Fuji's timetable on one sheet of paper, the calendar of the moon on another along with some notes on Hell's creatures. He glanced at the paper with Fuji's timetable on it, read it and then frowned. According to it, Fuji was meant to be back half an hour ago—

"Saa, Ryoma, what do we have here?"

Shit. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"And is it any of your concern, Fuji?" Ryoma began tiding up the desk, heaping the papers into one pile then setting them to one side before facing Fuji.

Fuji was intently gazing at the pile, yet that plastic smile still graced those lips. "My, you have nearly completed my timetable. You notice when I leave and when I come; I am so flattered."

Ryoma merely snorted at Fuji. "I was bored. Did you expect me to talk to the bed post all day? I think not."

Fuji chuckled. Inwardly Ryoma cringed. The laugh was neither amused nor humourless, it was something else entirely and Ryoma just couldn't put his finger on it. Feeling frustrated, he felt the need to wipe that smile off Fuji's face. Coming up with no good insult, he settled for the first, but rather weak, "Only you would."

It had the desired effect though. Fuji froze up and his face fell in shock revealing cerulean orbs. But in an instant, it was all replaced with the gentle—oh so deceivingly gentle—smiled. His eyes were still open though, but now they held an air of mischief as they darted from Ryoma to the pile of papers then back to Ryoma again.

"I wonder…"

Then he was gone, as silent as he had come.

Ryoma recollected enough wits to start cramming the papers back into their holes. It would be bad—no, an absolute catastrophe—if Fuji found his plans now. And so near to completion too. His hands worked fast, fumbling at times in his haste, as he sealed the cracks with the mortar he had removed. Though rough stone scratched his hands, he kept at it, filling all the holes.

When he had finished, just a few scant seconds later, he slammed both hands onto the desk. He stared at the shiny, polished table, not seeing it at all, and trembled. Nothing good can come of this. Feeling irritated, Ryoma sighed and headed to the bed. He flopped down, stared at the canopy then closed his eyes.

But sleep was much too far.

x.X.x

Fuji walked down the corridor, smile plastered onto his face. Thoughts churned under it though, going off in tangents before he reined them in again. The possible implication of what he had seen, it was too great to consider yet it was a simply matter.

Ryoma was going to escape.

And he thought over it. From the chances of it succeeding (to which he would put it down as near impossible), to exactly how Ryoma will find the Gate of Hell. Does Ryoma have a map? Had he all the resources needed? Would Ryoma take Fuji with him?

He stopped.

Would he?

As if that were the thought everything was waiting for, it hit him. The want to see a clear blue sky, green grass and a bright sun flooded him. The need to see his friends—how was Eiji doing without his best friend?—brought him to his knees. Head in his hands he could only stare at his shadow on the cold stone. Nostalgia flooded him: the feeling of a genuine smile; the scene of a sunset; the touch of a true friend; the antics of a dear brother; the food cooked by a sister; the love of someone special. These things that he hadn't felt or seen in five hundred years. He though they had disappeared, gone forever, swallowed by the black of Hell, and yet it only took one small, faint flicker of hope to make him realise what he had lost.

Yet he knew. He knew that Ryoma wouldn't take him. It wasn't his place to go. Who would let someone like him keep them company? Someone as tainted, deceitful— as _evil—_ as him?

Fuji got to his feet. Whatever fire or passion that had been within him died away and he was left limp and empty. He looked at his shadow one more time before gathering the dwindling resolve and curled his lips.

* * *

**A/N**: My internet explorer decided to die on me, so here I go again. I apologise for the lateness of this chapter. I tried to get it out within a month of the last chapter, but it seems that I did reach that goal. I'm sorry, again. I wrote the whole of this chapter on bus trips, so there may be a few errors. If you do find some, PM me and I'll be willing to change them.

Thank you to the awesome reviewers, who reviewed even after that, ahem, break I had. I realised that I lost quite a few of my old reviewers.

tsub4ki, xxSnowxxAngelxx, yume229, MizzDarknezz, EchizenRyomaLover, loveless0097, Lady Queria, KuroKiraHime, Amy-sama90.

**X. TANgled**


	15. Chapter 14

**Black and White Wings**

_Notes_: Beware of time skips  
_Dedication_: To the one who reviewed asking for a look on Tezuka and the others. Sorry, I can't find your review anymore. Review me back with your username and I'll edit this. XD

* * *

The High Lord, the most feared in the castle and surrounding regions, wrapped his cloak around him and descended further down those cold, smooth steps, winding their way into the darkness. He had long passed the dungeons were he kept the captured Angels, but he had yet to reach his destination.

**x.X.x**

10 000 years ago, a boy sat at the window seat in his classroom, seemingly resting with head on his arms and eyes closed, but his ears prickled at the gossip his classmates were on about. He could hear—for he definitely wasn't asleep—the words of 'did you see that?', 'it was amazing', and 'tennis'. They never specifically stated what they were on about; it was a mutual understanding that were all talking about the one match. So they never mentioned it, and Shinta Ryuurou, the boy, could only guess that it was about yesterday's match against Black Rose Academy.

"Shinta-kun!" A despicably high voice pierced his ear. He groaned. He was out all last night planning some stupid school carnival while the student president was out watching the tennis. He did not need a pestering girl to aid his headache. "Did you see, yesterday? He totally destroyed the captain from Black Rose!" The girl paused. "Lucifer-sama's tennis match I mean."

At the mention of Lucifer, Shinta shot up straight. "You said Lucifer-sempai, Takigawa-san?"

The girl called Takigawa giggled. "I remember now, you had to plan the up-coming Winter Festival while Kinomoto-sempai watched his match so must have missed it. But you're in luck! I video-taped it and I have it right here!" She dangled the bulky cassette in front of his face, but when he reached up to grab it, she pulled it behind her back. "Shinta-kun must do something for me first before he can have the tape." She looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "How about Shinta-kun must kiss me?"

If the prize had been something other than a tape of Lucifer, Shinta might just have groaned and ignored Takigawa for the rest of the day, but because it was, he immediately, without even thinking, stood up, leaned forward to plant a peck on her cheek while reaching around her side to pluck the tape out of her hands. Then he was gone in a flash, leaving Takigawa to swoon and comment on how lovely his red eyes were up close framed by dark golden locks.

Shinta immediately located an empty room, guessing the class had gone out for physical ed., and rolled out the small, but bulky TV on the trolley. He paused, noting with a frown that the remote had disappeared. He slipped the tape in anyways, figuring that a remote was unnecessary. He let the tape rewind while going about closing the door and letting the blinds down as it wouldn't do for a teacher to find out. Once it hit the beginning, Shinta pressed play and settled down as comfortably as he could on the closest table.

He watched the screen intently; watched the fluid movements of his sempai as the figure on the screen seemed to dance across the court to its own rhythm and beat, its own melody. But under those graceful movements there belied great strength and precision, the ability to put just enough spin on the ball, the skill of turning any ball into a winning ball. The battle, no, the total destruction of the Captain from Black Rose Academy all ended in ten minutes. Not a ball passed Lucifer was in, not a ball hit by Lucifer was out. Truly he deserved his name: the brightest star. The whole scene on the screen was frozen as if the camera, or the TV itself, was drawing a great breath. Then came the screams of victory.

Hastily, Shinta lunged forwards for the mute button, fumbled over the small buttons, before stabbing the volume down numerous times. He looked at the door then closed his eyes in relief.

"Maa, Ryuurou-kun," He jumped backwards, reflexively hitting the off button. "What were you watching? Is it so good that you'd skip class?"

Shinta folded his arms and directed his gaze at Lucifer. It was said that his blood red eyes could pierce anyone and send them all shivering in fear. "What about you, sempai? Don't you have class too?"

Unfortunately, if there was one person immune to his cold gaze, it was Lucifer.

"I have a free period now."

A small smile graced Lucifer's lips, charming to any girl and Shinta had it not been directed at him. That smile just seemed too smug. Framed by the dark locks though, it seemed that it belonged, and Shinta nearly, could almost, hate that smirk, but the fact remains that he could only almost hate it.

"That doesn't explain why you would be down here in the second year corridor."

Lucifer's cobalt eyes narrowed in amusement. "And tell me, Ryuurou-kun, what's stopping me from going down to the first years' corridor."

Shinta glared, but relented, muttering, "nothing."

"Exactly."

Lucifer moved in, leaned over Shinta's shoulder to turn the TV back on. His smirk widened further when he saw himself on the screen lifting up the trophy. He glanced back at the disgruntled Shinta, noting the way he glared at the video player. Perhaps it was just the trick of the light from the TV screen, but there seemed to be a faint dusting of pink across his kouhai's face. Either way, it was fun to tease Shinta and he couldn't believe that some, especially his teachers, thought he was dangerous. Well, looking at the expression on his face, the pure hatred tinged with a sneer, he could pass off as someone truly frightening he guessed.

"I have something to tell you, Ryuurou-kun." Lucifer backed away and drew out a chair for himself. He turned his eyes onto the desk beside him. "I received a message from _Him_ last night. No, I received an apology."

"From _Him_?" Shinta echoed doubtfully. "What would _He_ want?"

Suddenly Lucifer's eyes hardened, his fists clenched. "_He_ apologised for my creation, for my destiny that I cannot avoid. He was sorry for making the Prince of Darkness."

Shinta's brows furrowed. "The Prince of Darkness?"

"The fated adversary of God."

"That makes no sense. Why would he create his enemy?"

Lucifer snorted. It was hardly ever him who was bitter. "Something about balance. I don't understand him."

"So what are you going to do now?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Get revenge upon him I suppose."

Shinta lifted an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you just be doing what he wants?"

"I'm the brightest: I can't fall!"

"Lucifer—"

"Are you on my side or what?"

Shinta fell silent.

"I'm sorry, Ryuurou." Lucifer stood up, facing Shinta. "I shouldn't be telling you this; it has nothing to do with you. Forget I even stepped into this room." Lucifer made to walk to the door. He reached it and turned the knob. It felt cold under his touch.

"Maa~"

Lucifer stopped but didn't turn towards Shinta.

"Lucifer-sempai really has fallen. Fallen from my expectations, that is. The Lucifer-sempai I know wouldn't… Heh, I'll let you figure it out, ne?"

Lucifer turned around, pinning Shinta down with a glare. "You're just a kid. What would you know?" But there was no venom in those words, just amusement again. His blue eyes softened and Lucifer reached for Shinta and drew him into an embrace. "You're such a good friend, Ryuurou."

Shinta, with his forehead pressed against Lucifer's chest, couldn't smile, just desperately clutch at Lucifer's school uniform. He closed his eyes, forcing his muscles to relax. His shoulders sagged a bit and he let himself get taken by the embrace. Perhaps, with Lucifer's 'destiny' this may be the last he'll see his sempai. At that thought his hands unconsciously tightened their hold. He felt a hand gently ruffle his hair and mentally scold himself to get a grip already. Normally he would growl and take a swipe at anyone, including Lucifer, but he let it slide.

"What will sempai do now?"

Shinta couldn't see it, but Lucifer did smile menacingly. "You'll see, Ryuurou. You'll see."

Then Lucifer left, leaving a rather cold feeling in Ryuurou's empty hands.

**x.X.x**

It turned out that Lucifer had decided to rebel against God, except he had vowed to exceed everyone's expectation of him. Shinta could only watch dumbfounded as Lucifer spread out his white wings, effectively blocking the sun, making him just a black silhouette. He made a grand speech about puppets, marionettes, the master or something; Shinta didn't bother hearing. He heard only the irony, the silent fury and the desire for escape. No one else knew that it was Lucifer's 'destiny' to follow this path, now else saw what he saw, and he was sure, adamantly certain, that no one from this point on would think of Lucifer as the brightest.

Suddenly seven other angels shot up behind him. Lucifer gestured over to them and called them his 'loyal followers'. Then he paused, seemingly contemplating and his head moved slowly from one side to the other, seeking for someone. Abruptly, he jumped down from his perch on top of the church, and landed right in front of Shinta. His action sent a mass panic through the crowds as the closest people scrambled to get at least three metres away from 'the monster'. Lucifer smiled at the antics and the screaming, and his eyes gleamed. But only Shinta was close enough now to see the tint of sadness.

"Shinta Ryuurou," Lucifer began in a clear voice, magically projecting it to the farthest edge of the crowd. Lucifer held out a hand. "Will you join me?"

Shinta looked up. This was the sempai he had admired for the years he had been at the school. This was the sempai that had been admired _by the school itself_. This was the sempai called The Brightest Star. This was the sempai hinted as the next in line for the President of the Angel's High Council.

Damn it. This was the sempai he loved.

He looked at the offered hand.

He hesitantly reached out.

Faintly he heard protests. Was that Takigawa? But she didn't matter. Nothing did. Just Lucifer. And his pain. His suffering. His sadness.

He grasped that hand, looked up to see a pair of thankful blue eyes.

"Sempai."

He squeezed it, hoping to send strength.

"No. No. No."

Shinta looked over. It was Kinomoto, president of the school council, reduced to a cowering mess. He eyed Lucifer and Shinta and backed away, slowly, painfully.

"He managed to win over Shinta, the indifferent one. How…?"

"He is a real monster to be able to tempt Shinta-kun of all people…" On the other side was Takigawa, shaking her head.

"Come, Ryuurou." Shinta couldn't see Lucifer's expression, his dark locks took care of that as he looked towards the side.

Suddenly he was lifted off his feet. Instinctively, he spread his wings. He looked down at the people he knew. No one looked him in awe. They all looked up at him in confusion, disbelief.

Fear.

He felt used.

But somehow, he didn't care.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

Maybe because the hand in his was Lucifer's?

**x.X.x**

Shinta, or the High Lord, his hair now white, sat in the darkness, clucking his tongue, calling. One red flame appeared in the void, one large eye, so much like the hue of his own eyes. Something gigantic snorted, the sound deep and resonant, reverberating in Shinta's chest. Shinta held up a hand and watched as the eye neared—the beast not making a sound—, felt as cold scales pressed into his hands.

The Dragon had been a gift from his sempai to use in the war against Heaven. A present from long ago. He hadn't heard from Lucifer since but he had coped, hadn't he? He was making progress. His subordinates reported that the President of the Angel's High Council was getting desperate; apparently the Angel Syuusuke had captured was the next in line for Presidency. He's seen the boy, his wit, intellect, stubbornness and physical capabilities, but comparing him to Lucifer-sempai, it was like comparing a sparrow to an eagle, the distance between them was too far to bridge. The standards of the Angel's must have dropped. Significantly, Shinta concluded. That or nothing could compare to the Morning Star.

He sat there, stroking the beast with his papery hands, and he wondered, sincerely wondered, where Lucifer was now, what he was doing, and who he was think of.

**x.X.x**

Tezuka gently rubbed his temples.

"Mou, Oishi, Momo took my eel sushi!"

"Momo, please give it back. Momo are you even listening?"

"Mamushi! Wanna say that to my face?"

"I've already said it, idiotic peach: you look like a pig!"

"Uhh… Momo, Kaidoh, please calm down… eh he he… Ah Eiji, we have more if you want."

"Taka-san here."

"Ah? Oh, thanks Inui—GREATO! BURNING! I'll end this fight and more! BURNING!"

"Ii data… Kawamura's energy just rose by 87.6% when asked to break up a fight."

Tezuka closed his eyes.

"Oishi! Momo's being mean to his sempai, nya!"

"Momo, Kaidoh, break it up! Ahh, watch that cup— it spilt…"

"At least I don't look like snake and can't get cute girls!"

"At least I don't look like a pig and burp all over the place!"

"Wanna take it outside, Mamushi?"

"Afraid to do it right here, right now, peach-face?"

And counted to three.

"HORA HORA, break it up, Momoshiro, Kaidoh! You two bicker like a married couple! BURNING!"

One.

"Why would I want to sleep with someone who beds with cats?"

Two.

"Fshhh, why would _anyone_ marry someone like you, idiotic peach-face!"

Three.

"Ii data. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but only if you can tell the difference, ne?"

Enough was definitely enough.

"_Everyone_."

Silence fell over the room, like a spell cast by a witch. All occupants of the room turned fearfully towards Tezuka who was kneeling at the small traditional table and menacingly glaring at the others. All those sleepless nights were etched into his face, the marking of the trials of hard times. They knew he had to do more than them; he was, after all, the President. But to have the President look over a section of the army, wasn't it asking too much? Many of the elders had asked, ordered even, for Tezuka to relinquish one of his responsibilities but the stubborn man refused to. He refused to let anyone down. Not Seigaku, not the army, not the whole Angel population.

Not Echizen.

"Everyone," Tezuka repeated, more softly now. The creases on his forehead lifted slightly and there was a worn smile ghosting across his lips. "Don't let your guard down. There is still much to do and this victory pales in comparison. I will retire early if that is all right. Kawamura."

He nodded at the chef, then to each occupant in turn and gathered his belongings before shrugging on his jacket and leaving through the door. The soft tinkling of the metal chimes filled the silence the captain had left behind. Momoshiro, Kaidoh, Eiji, Oishi, Inui, Kawamura, they were all too shocked to respond. Perhaps a minute of stillness, Oishi finally stirred.

"Tezuka…"

Momoshiro suddenly snapped and reached for a cup on the table. Everyone else sobered, turning their downcast eyes to the table, if you could call reaching for sake sober.

**x.X.x**

"Atobe."

Atobe hummed and looked up from his book. It wasn't usual that he would receive company from another battalion, but there Kirihara was, looking worse for wear. His black hair which Atobe knew to be fondly called 'seaweed' flopped over his eyes and did not, in any way, look like seaweed. Kirihara must not have washed his hair in ages, and if it were a time other than war time, Atobe might just be tempted to call his servants to throw the brat out. But it was, and Atobe could tolerate and be tolerable if he wanted to be, so he graciously gestured to a chair.

"It must be something big if you can't even talk to Yukimura about it," Atobe commented offhandedly.

Kirihara grimaced. He never once looked at Atobe, but stared at his scratched boots. "Just… If I talked to Yukimura-buchou, I would just get a smile and a pat on the head, maybe a few words if he felt like it. If I asked Tezuka,"— Kirihara shuddered at the name—"all I get would probably be 'Don't let your guard down' and he'll just walk away. You know the stick."

"So you are consulting Ore-sama?" Atobe frowned.

"Yeah."

Silence passed before Atobe's frown deepened. He made a mental note to buy some more anti-wrinkle cream. "And so? What do you need to say?"

"Ask more like."

The room fell quiet as Kirihara wrestled to get the words out.

"Just… Is— I mean, uhh…"

Atobe raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like the brat to stumble.

"Are we too late?"

A pause. The air stilled and everything stopped.

"What I mean is, are we too late to save the bratling? It's been, what, four months already? I—I begin to doubt anything is going to work! For all we know the demons could have eaten him already and what are still doing? Finding the freaking Gate to Hell! We can't even get there! The damned demons disappear all over the place and we can't track them down! We can't find the Gate, we can't do anything! We're losing numbers quickly! We might just lose this war and I don't know anymore! We can't! Can't! We can't rescue—"

"NEVER SAY NEVER!" Atobe nearly roared. He was half-in, half-out of his chair with hands gripping the armrest so tightly that Kirihara could see at the corner of his vision the muscles straining. The book Atobe had been reading earlier lay discarded somewhere on the ground. Fearfully, Kirihara looked up. He never expected such a reaction from Atobe; he never expected a reaction, period. The wild, almost accusing, look Atobe gave him was definitely something Kirihara will never forget.

Atobe quickly regain his composure and promptly sat down. He relaxed, his shoulders sagged and he flopped into the soft chair. He dragged a hand over his face.

"Are you or are you not from Rikkaidai?"

Kirihara blinked.

"What happened to that 'win or die' attitude that so defines Rikkai?"

Kirihara shifted.

"Don't tell me you're giving up."

Kirihara looked away guiltily.

"Sanada should slap you, and hard."

Kirihara opened his mouth. "But—" And immediately shut it.

Atobe sighed. "If all you had come for was a mope and try to spread your depressive thoughts, I suggest you get out brat, before I order you out."

After a time, Atobe finally removed his hand from his face and looked around. It seems as if Kirihara had decided that extra force wasn't necessary. Atobe was about to pick up the phone and reprimand Yukimura about keeping his kouhai in check but remembered that Yukimura was patrolling. Yukimura must have sent the brat of a kouhai back. Kirihara was definitely in no shape to fight.

Atobe sighed.

Whatever hell is coming had better come fast and leave even quicker.

**x.X.x**

Fuji stared at the door. His hand was raised, ready to knock, yet he couldn't seem to bring it down to rap at the wood. He never had this problem before. A ridiculous thought crossed his mind. Maybe he should hate Ryoma for reducing him to such a bubbling pathetic puddle. His smile twisted into a wry one. How could he hate the person that had opened his eyes to the dark? Even if his eyes were closed, he never had seen just how far the blackness beyond his eyelids stretched, and stretched the blackness did with not a single light in sight.

He could go on like before.

His smile dropped slightly.

Whoever said ignorance was bliss was damn correct. Now knowing that Heaven was just beyond his reach… he just couldn't go on like before. He might snap. He might breakdown. He might—

"Syuusuke."

Fuji turned around. So the High Lord was never in his room after all. "My Lord."

They stood there facing each other in silence. It wasn't awkward. Just… melancholy, despite the smirk and the smile. Each remembered a faraway place, a lost time, a bygone dream. Some sand that had slipped through their fingers. The tranquillity was broken when the High Lord stepped towards Fuji, effectively backing him into the door. Fuji's smile never once faltered. The High Lord reached around the brunette and unlocked it.

"Come, my Angel. We have things to talk about and things to do."

* * *

**A/N**: I'm sorry for the ultra late update! I can only ask for forgiveness. Life and school sucks. I'm still trying to deal with them.

Ahh, I remember reading a review from long ago that mentioned that High Lord was very evil, so I couldn't help but put a back story. I think you're all going to kill me now for the lack of Ryoma or Fuji or Fujiryo in this chapter. (goes and hides in a black hole). Not to mention all those Atobe fans will kill me too.

Thank you to these reviewers!

dawn chase, Leite Destiny, PyroRoxas, MizzDarknezz, Premus, tsub4ki, xxSnowxxAngelxx, thfourteenth, BleuFleur, Sileny, bran626, reviewer, ajas136, Pri-Chan 1410, yume229.

You guys make my day~

**X. TANgled**


End file.
